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Presented  to  the 
library  of  the 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 

by 


THE 


W    OR    K    S 


O     F 


Mr.    P    OPE 


a 


THE 


WO    R  K  S 


O    F 


Mr.  ALEXANDER  TOTE, 


CICERO  pro  ARCH. 

H<ec  ftudia  adolefcenuam  alunt,  feneButem  ohleBant  j  fecundas 
res  ornanty  adverfis  perfugtum  &  folatium  prabent  $  dele- 
Bant  dom'ty  non  imp  ediunt  forts  $  pernoBant  nobifcum^  pe- 
regrinantur,  rufikantur* 


L  0  N  T>  0  N: 

Printed  by  W.  Bowyer,   for  Bernard  Lintot  be- 
tween the  Temple-Gates.  17 17. 


»S-Grittclirt  in.  ctfcutp 


PREFACE. 


Am  inclined  to  think  that  both  the 
writers  of  books,  and  the  readers  of 
them,  are  generally  not  a  little 
unreafonable  in  their  expe&ations. 
The  firft  feem  to  fancy  that  the 
world  muft  approve  whatever  they 
produce,  and  the  latter  to  imagine  that  authors 
are  obliged  to  pleafe  them  at  any  rate.  Methinks 
as  on  the  one  hand ,  no  {ingle  man  is  born  with 
a  right  of  controuling  the  opinions  of  all  the  reft ; 
fo  on  the  other,  the  world  has  no  title  to  demand, 
that  the  whole  care  and  time  of  any  particular 
perfon  ihould  be  facrificed  to  its  entertainment. 
Therefore  I  cannot  but  believe  that  writers  and 
readers  are  under  equal  obligations,  for  as  much 
fame,  or  pleafure,  as  each  affords  the  other. 

Every 


h 


P    R   E   F  A    C   E. 

Every  one  acknowledges,  it  would  be  a  wild 
notion  to  expert  perfection  in  any  work  of  man : 
and  yet  one  would  think  the  contrary  was  taken 
for  granted,  by  the  judgment  commonly  part  upon 
Poems.  A  Critic  fuppofes  he  has  done  his  part, 
if  he  proves  a  writer  to  have  fail'd  in  an  exprefli- 
on,  or  err'd  in  any  particular  point :  and  can  it 
then  be  wonder 'd  at,  if  the  Poets  in  general  feem 
refolv'd  not  to  own  themfelves  in  any  error  ?  For 
as  long  as  one  fide  defpifes  a  well-meant  endea- 
vour, the  other  will  not  be  fatisfy'd  with  a  mode- 
rate approbation. 

I  am  afraid  this  extreme  fceal  on  both  fides  is 
ill-placed ;  Poetry  and  Criticifm  being  by  no 
means  the  universal  concern  of  the  world,  but  on- 
ly the  affair  of  idle  men  who  write  in  their  clo- 
fets,  and  of  idle  men  who  read  there.  Yet  fure 
upon  the  whole,  a  bad  Author  deferves  better  ufage 
than  a  bad  Critic ;  a  man  may  be  the  former 
merely  thro'  the  misfortune  of  an  ill  judgment, 
but  he  cannot  be  the  latter  without  both  that  and 
an  ill  temper. 

I  think  a  good  deal  may  be  faid  to  extenuate 
the  fault  of  bad  Poets.  What  we  call  a  Genius,  is 
hard  to  be  diftinguiih'd  by  a  man  himfelf,  from 
a  ftrong  inclination  :  and  if  it  be  never  fo  great, 
he  can  not  at  firft  difcover  it  any  other  way,  than 
by  that  prevalent  propenfity  which  renders  him 

the 


P   R   E   F  A    C   E. 

the  more  liable  to  be  miftaken.    The  only  method 
he  has,  is  to  make  the  experiment  by  writing,  and 
appealing  to  the  judgment  of  others :    And  if  he 
happens  to  write  ill  (which  is  certainly  no  fin  in 
itfelf)  he  is  immediately  made  an  object  of  ri- 
dicule.    I  wifli  we  had  the  humanity  to  refle6l 
that  even  the  worft  authors  might  endeavour  to 
pleafe  us,  and  in  that  endeavour,   deferve  fome- 
thing  at  our  hands.    We  have  no  caufe  to  quarrel 
with  them  but  for  their  obftinacy  in  periifting, 
and  this  too  may  admit  of  alleviating  circumftan- 
ces.    Their  particular  friends  may  be  either  igno- 
rant, or  infincere  ;    and  the  reft  of  the  world  too 
well  bred  to  fliock  them  with  a  truth,  which  ge- 
nerally their  Bookfellers  are  the  firft  that  inform 
them  of.     This  happens  not  till  they  have  fpent 
too  much  of  their  time,  to  apply  to  any  profeffion 
which  might  better  fit  their  talents;  and  till  fuch 
talents  as  they  have  are  fo  far  difcredited,as  to  be  but 
of  fmall  fervice  to  them.    For  (what  is  the  hard- 
eft  cafe  imaginable)  the  reputation  of  a  man  ge- 
nerally depends  upon  the  firft  fteps  he  makes  in 
the  world,  and  people  will  eftablifh  their  opinion 
of  us,  from  what  we  do  at  that  feafon  when  we 
have  leaft  judgment  to  diredl  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  good  Poet  no  fooner  com- 
municates his  works  with  the  fame  defire  of  infor- 
mation,  but  it  is  imagin'd  he  is  a  vain  young 

creature 


.V 


P   R   E   F  A    C   E. 

creature  given  up  to  the  ambition  of  fame;  when 
perhaps  the  poor  man  is  all  the  while  trembling 
with  the  fear  of  being  ridiculous.  If  he  is  made 
to  hope  he  may  pleafe  the  world,  he  falls  under 
very  unlucky  circumftances ;  for  from  the  mo- 
ment he  prints,  he  muft:  expe6l  to  hear  no  more 
truth,  than  if  he  were  a  Prince,  or  a  Beauty.  If 
he  has  not  very  good  fenfe,  his  living  thus  in  a 
courfe  of  flattery  may  put  him  in  no  fmall  danger 
of  becoming  a  Coxcomb:  If  he  has,  he  will  confe- 
quently  have  fo  much  diffidence,  as  not  to  reap 
any  great  fatisfa6iion  from  his  praife ;  fince  if  it 
be  given  to  his  face,  it  can  fcarce  be  diftinguifh'd 
from  flattery,  and  if  in  his  abfence,  it  is  hard  to 
be  certain  of  it.  Were  he  fure  to  be  commended 
by  the  beft  and  moft  knowing,  he  is  as  fure  of  be- 
ing envy'd  by  the  worft  and  moft  ignorant ;  for 
it  is  with  a  fine  Genius  as  with-  a  fine  faihion,  all 
thofe  are  difpleas'd  at  it  who  are  not  able  to  fallow 
it :  And  'tis  to  be  fear'd  that  efteem  will  feldom  do 
any  man  fo  much  good,  as  ill-will  does  him  harm. 
Then  there  is  a  third  clafs  of  people  who  make 
the  largefh  part  of  mankind,  thofe  of  ordinary  or 
indifferent  capacities;  and  thefe  (to  a  man)  will 
hate,  or  fufpe6t  him :  a  hundred  honeft  gentle-- 
men  will  dread  him  as  a  wit,  and  a  hundred  in- 
nocent wQmen  as  a  fatyrift.  In  a  word,  whatever 
be  his  fate  in  Poetry,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  he  muft 

give 


P    R   E   F  A    C   E. 

give  up  all  the  reafonable  aims  of  life  for  it.  There 
are  indeed  fome  advantages  accruing  from  a  Ge- 
nius to  Poetry,  and  they  are  all  I  can  think  of: 
the  agreeable  power  of  felf-amufement  when  a  man 
is  idle  or  alone ;  the  privilege  of  being  admitted 
into  the  beffc  company ;  and  the  freedom  of  fay- 
ing as  many  carelefs  things  as  other  people,  with- 
out being  fo  feverely  remark'd  upon. 

I  believe,  if  any  one,  early  in  his  life  fliould 
contemplate  the  dangerous  fate  of  authors,  he  would 
fcarce  be  of  their  number  on  any  consideration. 
The  life  of  a  Wit  is  a  warfare  upon  earth;  and 
the  prefent  fpirit  of  the  world  is  fuch,  that  to  at- 
tempt to  ferve  it  (any  way)  one  mud:  have  the 
conftancy  of  a  martyr,  and  a  refolution  to  fuffer 
for  its  fake.  I  confefs  it  was  want  of  confiderati- 
on  that  made  me  an  author ;  I  writ  becaufe  it 
amufed  me ;  I  corrected  becaufe  it  was  as  plea- 
fant  to  me  to  correct  as  to  write ;  and  I  publilh'd 
becaufe  I  was  told  I  might  pleafe  fuch  as  it  was  a 
credit  to  pleafe.  To  what  degree  I  have  done 
this,  I  am  really  ignorant  ;  I  had  too  much 
fondnefs  for  my  productions  to  judge  of  them 
at  firft,  and  too  much  judgment  to  be  pleas'd 
with  them  at  laft.  But  I  have  reafon  to  think 
they  can  have  no  reputation  which  will  conti- 
nue long,  or  which  deferves  to  do  fo :  for  they 
have    always    fallen    Ihort    not  only  of  what  t 

a  read 


PREFACE. 

read  of  others,  but  even  of  my  own  Ideas  of 
Poetry. 

If  any  one  fliould  imagine  I  am  not  in  earneft, 
I  delire  him  to  reflecft,  that  the  Ancients  (to  fay 
the  leaft  of  them)  had  as  much  Genius  as  we; 
and  that  to  take  more  pains,  and  employ  more 
time,  cannot  fail  to  produce  more  complete  pieces. 
They  conftantly  apply'd  themfelves  not  only  to 
that  art,  but  to  that  fingle  branch  of  an  art,  to 
which  their  talent  was  moft  powerfully  bent ;  and 
it  was  the  bufinefs  of  their  lives  to  corre6t  and  fi- 
nifh  their  works  for  pofterity.  If  we  can  pretend 
to  have  ufed  the  fame  induftry,  let  us  expert  the 
fame  immortality :  Tho7  if  we  took  the  fame  care, 
we  fhould  flill  lie  under  a  farther  misfortune :  they* 
writ  in  languages  that  became  univerfal  and  ever- 
lafting,  while  ours  are  extremely  limited  both  in 
extent,  and  in  duration.  A  mighty  foundation  for 
our  pride  !  when  the  utmoft  we  can  hope,  is  but  to 
be  read  in  one  Ifland,  and  to  be  thrown  afide  at 
the  end  of  one  Age. 

AH  that  is  left  us  is  to  recommend  our  produ- 
ctions by  the  imitation  of  the  Ancients :  and  it  will 
be  found  true,  that  in  every  age,  the  higheft  cha- 
racter for  fenfe  and  learning  has  been  obtain'd  by 
thofe  who  have  been  moft  indebted  to  them.  For 
to  fay  truth,  whatever  is  very  good  fenfe  muft 
have  been  common  fenfe  in  all  times ;    and  what 

we 


P   R    E   F  A    C    E. 

we  call  Learning,  is  but  the  knowledge  of  the  fenfe 
of  our  predeceffors.  Therefore  they  who  fay  our 
thoughts  are  not  our  own  becaufe  they  referable 
the  Ancients,  may  as  well  fay  our  faces  are  not 
our  own,  becaufe  they  are  like  our  Fathers :  And 
indeed  it  is  very  unreafonable,  that  people  fliould 
expect  us  to  be  Scholars,  and  yet  be  angry  to  find 
us  fo. 

I  fairly  confefs  that  I  have  ferv'd  my  felf  all 
I  could  by  reading  ;  that  I  made  ufe  of  the 
judgment  of  authors  dead  and  living  ;  that  I  o- 
mitted  no  means  in  my  power  to  be  inform'd  of 
my  errors,  both  by  my  friends  and  enemies;  and 
that  I  expect  not  to  be  excus'd  in  any  negligence 
on  account  of  youth,  want  of  leifure,  or  any  other 
idle  allegations :  But  the  true  reafon  thefe  pieces 
are  not  more  correct,  is  owing  to  the  confiderati- 
on  how  fhort  a  time  they,  and  I,  have  to  live:  One 
may  be  afhamed  to  confume  half  one's  days  in 
bringing  fenfe  and  rhyme  together ;  and  what 
Critic  can  be  fo  unreafonable  as  not  to  leave  a  man 
time  enough  for  any  more  ferious  employment,  or 
more  agreeable  amufement  ? 

The  only  plea  I  fhall  ufe  for  the  favour  of  the 
publick,  is,  that  I  have  as  great  a  refpedt  for  it,  as 
mod  authors  have  for  themfelves ;  and  that  I  have 
facrificed  much  of  my  own  felf-love  for  its  fake,  in 
preventing  not  only  many  mean  things  from  fee- 

a  2  ing 


v 


PREFACE. 

ing  the  light,  but  many  which  I  thought  tolera- 
ble. I  believe  no  one  qualification  is  fo  likely 
to  make  a  good  writer,  as  the  power  of  rejecting 
his  own  thoughts ;  and  it  mult  be  this  (if  any 
thing)  that  can  give  me  a  chance  to  be  one.  For 
what  I  have  publifh'd,  I  can  only  hope  to  be  par- 
don'd  ;  but  for  what  I  have  burn'd,  I  defer ve  to 
be  prais'd.  On  this  account  the  world  is  under 
fome  obligation  to  me,  and  owes  me  the  juftice 
in  return,  to  look  upon  no  verfes  as  mine  that 
are  not  inferted  in  this  col  legion.  And  perhaps 
nothing  could  make  it  worth  my  while  to  own 
what  are  really  fo,  but  to  avoid  the  imputation 
of  fo  many  dull  and  immoral  things,  as  partly  by 
malice,  and  partly  by  ignorance,  have  been  afcri- 
bed  to  me.  I  muft  farther  acquit  my  felf  of  the 
prefumption  of  having  lent  my  name  to  recom- 
mend any  Mifcellanies,  or  works  of  other  men,  a 
thing  I  never  thought  becoming  a  perfon  who  has 
hardly  credit  enough  to  anfwer  for  his  own. 

In  this  office  of  collecting  my  pieces,  I  am  al- 
together uncertain,  whether  to  look  upon  my  felf 
as  a  man  building  a  monument,  or  burying 
the  dead  ? 

If  time  fliall  make  it  the  former,  may  thefe 
Poems  (as  long  as  they  lalt)  remain  as  a  teftimo- 
ny,  that  their  Author  never  made  his  talents  fub- 
fervient  to  the  mean  and  unworthy  ends  of  Party 

or 


PREFACE. 

or  felf-intereft ;  the  gratification  of  publick  pre- 
judices, or  private  pafiions;  the  flattery  of  the  un- 
deferving,  or  the  infult  of  the  unfortunate.  If  I 
have  written  well,  let  it  be  confider'd  that  'tis 
what  no  man  can  do  without  good  fenfe,  a  qua- 
lity that  not  only  renders  one  capable  of  being 
a  good  writer,  but  a  good  man.  And  if  I  have 
made  any  acquifition  in  the  opinion  of  any  one 
under  the  notion  of  the  former,  let  it  be  continued 
to  me  under  no  other  title  than  that  of  the  latter. 

But  if  this  publication  be  only  a  more  folemn 
funeral  of  my  Remains,  I  defire  it  may  be  known 
that  I  die  in  charity,  and  in  my  fenfes;  without 
any  murmurs  againft  the  juftice  of  this  age,  or 
any  mad  appeals  to  pofterity.  I  declare  I  fhall 
think  the  world  in  the  right,  and  quietly  fubmit 
to  every  truth  which  time  fhall  difcover  to  the 
prejudice  of  thefe  writings ;  not  fo  much  as  wiili- 
ing  fo  irrational  a  thing,  as  that  every  body  fhould 
be  deceiv'd,  meerly  for  my  credit.  However,  I 
defire  it  may  then  be  confider'd,  that  there  are  very 
few  things  in  this  collection  which  were  not  written 
under  the  age  of  five  and  twenty;  fo  that  my  youth 
may  be  made  (as  it  never  fails  to  be  in  Executions) 
a  cafe  of  compafllon.  That  I  was  never  fo  concern'd 
about  my  works  as  to  vindicate  them  in  print,  be- 
lieving if  any  thing  was  good  it  would  defend  it- 
felf;  and  what  was  bad  could  never  be  defended. 


S- 


P    K   E   F  J    C   E. 

That  I  ufed  no  artifice  to  raife  or  continue  a  repu- 
tation, depreciated  no  dead  author  I  was  obliged 
to,  brib'd  no  living  one  with  unjuft  praife,  in- 
fulted  no  adverfary  with  ill  language,  or  when  I 
could  not  attack  a  Rival's  works,  encourag'd  re- 
ports againft  his  Morals.  To  conclude,  if  this  vo- 
lume perifli,  let  it  ferve  as  a  warning  to  the  Cri- 
tics, not  to  take  too  much  pains  for  the  future  to 
deftroy  fuch  things  as  will  die  of  themfelves;  and 
a  Memento  mori  to  fome  of  my  vain  cotemporaries 
the  Poets,  to  teach  them  that  when  real  merit  is 
wanting,  it  avails  nothing  to  have  been  encourag'd 
by  the  great,  commended  by  the  eminent,  and  fa- 
vour'd  by  the  publick  in  general. 


On 


On  Mr.  POPE  and  his  Poems, 

By  his  Grace 

JOHN   SHEFFIELD  Duke  of 

Buckingham. 


WITH  age  decay'd,  with  Courts  and  bus'nefs  tir'd, 
Caring  for  nothing  but  what  Eafe  requir'd  5. 
Too  dully  ferious  for  the  Mufe's  iport, 
And  from  the  Critics  fafe  arriv'd  in  Port  j 
I  little  thought  of  launching  forth  agen, 
Amidft  adventrous  rovers  of  the  Pen : 
And  after  fo  much  undeferv'd  Succefs, 
Thus  hazarding  at  laft  to  make  it  lefs. 

Encomiums  fuit  not  this  cenforious  time, 
It  felf  a  Subject  for  fatyric  Rhime  ; 
Ignorance  honour'd,  Wit  and  Worth  defam'd, 
Folly  triumphant,  and1  ev'n  Homer  blam'd! 

But  to  this  Genius,  join'd  with  fo  much  Art, 
Such  various  Learning  mix'd  in  ev'ry  part, 
Poets  are  bound  a  loud  applaufe  to  pay  j 
Apollo  bids  it,  and  they  muft  obey. 

And  yet  fo  wonderful,  fublime  a  thing,. 
As  the  great  Iliady  fcarce  mould  make  me  £ng ; 

Except 


\ 


Except  I  juftly  could  at  once  commend 
A  good  Companion,  and  as  firm  a  Friend. 
One  moral,  or  a  meer  vvcli-natur'd  deed, 
Does  all  defert  in  Sciences  exceed. 

'Tis  great  Delight  to  laugh  at  fome  men's  ways, 
But  a  much  greater  to  give  Merit  praife. 


„AW, 


mmm 


To    Mr.    P  OP  E, 

By  the  Right  Honourable 

ANNE  Countefs  of  Winchelsea. 


TH  E  Mufe,  of  ev'ry  heav'nly  gift  allow'd 
To  be  the  chief,  is  publick,  tho'  not  proud. 
Widely  extenfive  is  the  Poet's  aim, 
And,  in  each  verfe,  he  draws  a  bill  on  fame. 
For  none  have  writ  (whatever  they  pretend) 
Singly  to  raife  a  Patron  or  a  Friend,- 
But  whatfoe'er  the  theme  or  object  be, 
Some  commendations  to  themfelves  forefee. 
Then  let  us  find,   in  your  foregoing  page, 
The  celebrating  Poems  of  the  age, 
Nor  by  injurious  fcruples  think  it  fit, 
To  hide  their  judgments  who  applaud  your  Wit: 
But  let  their  pens,  to  yours,  the  heralds  prove, 
Who  drive  for  you  as  Greece  for  Homer  drove. 

Whilft 


Whilft  he  who  beft  your  Poetry  afferts, 
Afferts  his  own,  by  fympathy  of  parts. 
Me  Panegyric  k  verfe  does  not  infpire, 
Who  never  well  can  praife  what  I  admire, 
Nor  in  thole  lofty  tryals  dare  appear, 
But  gently  drop  this  counfel  in  your  ear. 
Go  on,  to  gain  applaufes  by  defert, 
Inform  the  head,  whilft  you  diffolve  the  heart : 
Inflame  the  Soldier  with  harmonious  rage, 
Elate  the  young,  and  gravely  warm  the  fage  : 
Allure,  with  tender  verfe,  the  Female  race, 
And  give  their  darling  paflion,  courtly  grace. 
Defcribe  the  Foreft  ftill  in  rural  drains, 
With  vernal  fweets  frefh-breathing  from  the  plains. 
Your  Tales  be  eafy,  natural,  and  gay, 
Nor  all  the  Poet  in  that  part  difplay ; 
Nor  let  the  Critic,  there  his  skill  unfold, 
For  Boccace  thus,   and  Chaucer  tales  have  told. 
Sooth,  as  you  only  can,  each  differing  tafte, 
And  for  the  future  charm  as  in  the  paft. 
Then  fhould  the  verfe  of  ev'ry  artful  hand 
Before  your  numbers  eminently  ftand  -> 
In  you  no  vanity  could  thence  be  mown, 
Unlefs,  fince  fhort  in  beauty  of  your  own, 
Some  envious  fcribler  might  in  fpight  declare, 
That  for  comparifon  you  plac'd  'em  there. 
But  Envy  could  not  againft  you  fucceed, 
'Tis  not  from  friends  that  write,  or  foes  that  read ; 
Cenfure  or  Praife  mud  from  our  felves  proceed. 


To 


#<v*£  •■^A*  *  c**0£  *iC^C  rC~OC  *jC*~*<*  *)C*OC  -^CfcOC  *£**&  ^Cs>C  ")C"^C  'jCiOC  'jCV/C  ^Cs^  ^Cs^C  *jCsOC  "^C^C  'jC^^C  r/C**^  ejCv^f  rjC*"^C 

To  Mr.  POPE  on  his  Pastorals. 

By  Mr.  WTCHERLET. 

IN   thefe  more  dull,  as  more  cenfbrious  days, 
When  few  dare  give,  and  fewer  merit  praife  ; 
A  Mufe  fmcere,  that  never  flatt'ry  knew, 
Pays  what  to  friendship  and  defert  is  due. 
Young,  yet  judicious,-    in  your  verfe  are  found 
Art  ftrengthning  Nature,  Senfe  improv'd  by  Sound : 
Unlike  thofe  Wits,  whofe  numbers"  glide  along 
So  fmooth,  no  thought  e'er  interrupts,  the  fbng  i 
Laborioufly  enervate  they  appear,. 
And  write  not  to  the  head,  but  to  the  ear : 
Our  minds  unmov'd  and  unconcern'd  they  lull,, 
And  are  at  bed  mod  mufically  dull- 
So  purling  dreams  with  even  mrumurs  creep, 
And  hum  the  heavy  hearers  into  fleep. 
As  fmoothed  fpeech  is  mod  deceitful  found, 
The  fmoothed  numbers  oft'  are  empty  found,. 
And  leave  our  lab'ring  fancy  quite  a-ground". 
But  Wit  and  Judgment  join  at  once  in  you, 
Sprightly  as  youth,  as  age  confummate  too  i 
Your  drains  are  regularly  bold,  and  pleafe 
WTith  unforc'd  carer  and  unaffected  eafe, 
With  proper  thoughts,  and  lively  images : 
Such  as  by  Nature  to  the  Ancients,  mown, 
Fancy  improves,  and  Judgment  makes  your  own : 


For 


For  great  men's  fafhions  to  be  follow'd  are, 

Altho'  difgraceful  'tis  their  cloaths  to  wear. 

Some  in  a  polifh'd  ftyle  write  Paftoral, 

Arcadia  (peaks  the  language  of  the  Mall, 

Like  fome  fair  fhepherdefs,  the  fylvan  Mufe, 

Deck'd  in  thofe  flow'rs  her  native  fields  produce, 

With  modeft  charms  would  in  plain  neatnefs  pleafe, 

But  feems  a  dowdy  in  the  courtly  drefs, 

Whofe  aukward  finery  allures  us  lefs. 

But  the  true  meafiire  of  the  fhepherd's  wit 

Should,  like  his  garb,  be  for  the  country  fit ; 

Yet  mud  his  pure  and  unaffected  thought 

More  nicely  then  the  common  fwains  be  wrought : 

So,  with  becoming  art,  the  Players  drefs 

In  filks,  the  fhepherd,  and  the  fhepherdefs ; 

Yet  itill  unchang'd  the  form  and  mode  remain, 

Shap'd  like  the  homely  ruffet  of  the  fwain. 

Your  rural  Mufe  appears  to  juftify 

The  long-loft  graces  of  Simplicity : 

So  rural  beauties  captivate  our  ienfe 

With  virgin  charms,  and  native  excellence. 

Yet  long  her  modefty  thofe  charms  conceal'd, 

Till  by  men's  envy  to  the  world  reveal'd,- 

For  Wits  induftrious  to  their  trouble  feem, 

And  needs  will  envy,  what  they  muft  efteem. 

Live,  and  enjoy  their  fpite  I  nor  mourn  that  fate 
Which  wou'd,  if  Vtrgtl  liv'd,  on  Virgil  wait  ,• 
Whofe  Mufe  did  once,  like  thine,  in  plains  delight  ; 
Thine  fhall,  like  his,  foon  take  a  higher  flight  ,- 
So  Larks,  which  firft  from  lowly  fields  arife, 
Mount  by  degrees,  and  reach  at  laft  the  skies. 


To 


\ 


8ft&1^gi3fl!$1^gigi^!gl^lW3lft^ 


Killala  in  the  County  of  Mayo 
in  Ireland,  June  y.iyif. 

T  O 


Mr.  POPE  on  his  Windsor-Forest. 


HAIL,  facred  Bardf  a  Mufe  unknown  before 
Salutes  thee  from  the  bleak  Atlantic  fliore. 
To  our  dark  world  thy  fhining  page  is  fhown,, 
And  Wtndfofs  gay  retreat  becomes  our  own. 
The  Eaftern  pomp  had  juil  befpoke  our  care, 
And  India  pour'd  her  gawdy  treafures  here ; 
A  various  fpoil  adorn'd  our  naked  land, 
The  pride  of  Perfia  glitter'd  on  our  ftrand, 
And  China's  Earth  was  call  on  common  fand : 
Tofs'd  up  and  down  the  gloffy  fragments  lay, 
And  drefs'd  the  rocky  fhelves,  and  pav'd  the  painted  bay- 
Thy  treafures  next  arriv'd :   And  now  we  boaft 
A  nobler  Cargo  on  our  barren  coaft. 
From  thy  luxuriant  Forefl:  we  receive 
More  lafting  glories  than  the  Eaft  can  give. 
Where-e'er  we  dip  in  thy  delightful  page, 
What  pompous  fcenes  our  buly  thoughts  engage ! 
The  pompous  fcenes  in  all  their  pride  appear, 
Frefh  in  the  page,  as  in  the  grove  they  were. 
Nor  half  fb  true  the  fair  Lodona  mows 
The  fylvan  Hate  that  on  her  border  grows, 
While  ihe  the  wondring  ihepherd  entertains 
With  a  new  Windfor  in  her  watry  plains : 

Thy 


Thy  jufter  Jays  the  lucid  wave  furpafs  ,• 

The  living  fcene  is  in  the  Mufe's  glafs. 

Nor  fweeter  notes  the  ecchoing  Forefls  chear, 

When  Philomela  fits  and  warbles  there, 

Than  when  you  fing  the  greens,  and  opening  glades, 

And  give  us  Harmony  as  well  as  Shades. 

A  Titian's  hand  might  draw  the  grove,  but  you 

Can  paint  the  grove,  and  add  the  Mufic  too. 
With  vaft  variety  thy  pages  fhine,- 

A  new  creation  flarts  in  ev'ry  line. 

How  fiidden  trees  rife  to  the  reader's  fight, 

And  make  a  doubtful  fcene  of  fhade  and  light,. 

And  give  at  once  the  day,  at  once  the  night ! 

And  here  again  what  fweet  confufion  reigns, 

In  dreary  deferts  mix'd  with  painted  plains.' 

And  fee !  the  deferts  cafl  a  pleafing  gloom  ,• 

And  fhrubby  heaths  rejoice  in  purple  bloom : 
Whilft  fruitful  crops  rife  by  their  barren  fide, 
And  bearded  groves  difplay  their  annual  pride. 
Happy  the  man,  who  firings  his  tuneful  lyre, 
Where  woods,  and  brooks,  and  breathing  fields  infpire ! 
Thrice  happy  you !  and  worthy  bed  to  dwell 
Amidft  the  rural  joys  you  fing  fo  well. 
I  in  a  cold,  and  in  a  barren  clime, 
Cold  as  my  thought,  and  barren  as  my  rhime, 
Here  on  the  Weftern  beach  attempt  to  chime ! 
O  joylefs  flood  I  O  rough  tempeftuous  main ! 
Border'd  with  weeds,  and  folitudes  obfeene  ! 
Let  me  ne'er  flow  like  thee!  nor  make  thy  ftream 
My  fad  example,  or  my  wretched  theme. 
Like  bombaft.  now  thy  raging  billows  roar, 
And  vainly  dafh  themfelves  againft  the  more : 

About 


About  like  quibbles  now  thy  froth  is  thrown, 
And  all  extreams  are  in  a  moment  mown. 

Snatch  me,  ye  Gods !    from  thefe  Atlantic  mores, 
And  fhelter  me  in  Windfor's  fragrant  Bow'rs; 
Or  to  my  much-lov'd  Ifis*  walks  convey, 
And  on  her  flow'ry  banks  for  ever  lay  : 
Thence  let  me  view  the  venerable  fcene, 
The  awful  dome,  the  groves  eternal  green ; 
Where  facred  Hough  long  found  his  fam'd  retreat, 
And  brought  the  Mufcs  to  the  fylvan  feat, 
Reform'd  the  wits,  unlock'd  the  Garlic  ftore, 
And  made  that  Mufic  which  was  noife  before. 
There  with  illuflrious  Bards  I  fpent  my  days, 
Nor  free  from  cenfure,  nor  unknown  to  praife ; 
Enjoy'd  the  bleflings  that  his  reign  beflow'd, 
Nor  envy'd  JVtndfor  in  the  foft  abode. 
The  golden  minutes  fmoothly  dane'd  away, 
And  tuneful  Bards  beguil'd  the  tedious  day. 
They  fung,   nor  lung  in  vain,  with  numbers  fir'd 
That  Maro  taught,  or  Add'ifon  infpir'd. 
Ev'n  I  effay'd  to  touch  the  trembling  firing : 
Who  cou'd  hear  them,   and  not  attempt  to  fing  ? 

Rouz'd  from  thefe  dreams  by  thy  -commanding  flrain, 
I  rife,  and  wander  thro'  the  field  or  plain  -, 
Led  by  thy  Mufe  from  (port  to  fport  I  run, 
Mark  the  ftretch'd  line,  or  hear  the  thund'ring  gu&. 
Ah !  how  I  melt  with  pity,  when  I  fpy 
On  the  cold  earth  the  fluttering  Pheafant  lie,- 
His  gawdy  robes  in  dazling  lines  appear, 
And  ev'ry  feather  fhines  and  varies  there. 

Nor  can  I  pafs  the  gen'robs  courfer  by, 
But  while  the  prancing  deed  allures  my  eye, 
He  (tarts,  he's  gone !  and  now  I  fee  him  fly 

O'er 


/ 


O'er  hills  and  dales ;    and  now  I  lofe  the  courfe, 
Nor  can  the  rapid  fight  purfue  the  flying  horfe. 
Oh  cou'd  thy  Virgil  from  his  orb  look  down, 
He'd  view  a  courier  that  might  match  his  own ! 
Fir'd  with  the  Iport,  and  eager  for  the  chace, 
Lodoncfs  murmurs  flop  me  in  the  race. 
Who  can  refufe  Lodona's  melting  tale? 
The  foft  complaint  fhall  over  time  prevail  ,• 
The  tale  be  told,  when  (hades  forfake  her  more, 
The  nymph  be  lung,  when  fhe  can  flow  no  more. 

Nor  Iriall  thy  fong,  old  Thames/  forbear  to  mine,, 
At  once  the  fiibject  and  the  long  divine. 
Peace,  fung  by  thee,  fhall  pleafe  ev'n  Brha'ins  more 
Than  all  their  fhouts  for  Victory  before. 
Oh  !  cou'd  Britannia  imitate  thy  ftream, 
The  world  Ihould  tremble  at  her  awful  name. 
From  various  Iprings  divided  waters  glide, 
In  diff'rent  colours  roll  a  difPrent  tyde, 
Murmur  along  their  crooked  banks  a  while, 
At  once  they  murmur  and  enrich  the  Ille  ^ 
A  while  diftincl:  thro'  many  channels  run, 
But  meet  at  laft,    and  fweetly  flow  in  one ; 
There  joy  to  lofe  their  long-diitinguiuYd  names, 
And  make  one  glorious,  and  immortal  Thames^ 


Fr.  Knapp. 


To 


To  Mr.  P  OPE, 

In  imitation  of  a  Greek  Epigram  on  Homer. 

W'HEN  Phoebus,  and  the  nine  harmonious  maids, 
Of  old  affembled  in  the  Thefpian  (hades ; 
What  Theme,  they  cry'd,  what  high  immortal  air, 
Befit  thefe  harps  to  found,  and  thee  to  hear  ? 
Reply'd  the  God .;  Your  loftieft  notes  employ, 
To  fing  young  Peleus,  and  the  fall  of  Troy. 
The  wond'rous  fong,  with  rapture  they  rehearfe,* 
Then  ask,  who  wrought  that  miracle  of  verfe  ? 
He  anfwer'd  with  a  frown  ;    I  now  reveal 
A  truth,  that  Envy  bids  me  not  conceal  : 
Retiring  frequent  to  this  Laureat  vale, 
I  warbled  to  the  Lyre  that  fav'rite  tale, 
Which,  unobferv'd,  a  wand'ring  Greek,  and  blind, 
Heard  me  repeat,   and  treafur'd  in  his  mind  ,• 
And,  fir'd  with  third  of  more  than  mortal  praife, 
From  me,  the  God  of  Wit,  ufurp'd  the  bays. 

But  let  vain  Greece  indulge  her  growing  fame, 
Proud  with  celeitial  fpoils  to  grace  her  name,- 
Yet  when  my  arts  (hall  triumph  in  the  Weft, 
And  the  white  Ifle  with  female  pow'r  is  bleft,- 
Fame,  I  forefee,  will  make  reprizals  there, 
And  the  Tranflator's  Palm  to  me  transfer. 
With  lels  regret  my  claim  I  now  decline, 
The  World  will  think  his  EngTifh  Iliad  mine. 

E.  Fenton. 

To 


€&€a€&«c*€a€»@^€a^@€>©€&€&©€&€»«* 


To   Mr.   POPE. 


TO  praife,  and  dill  with  jud  refpect  to  praife 
A  Bard  triumphant  in  immortal  bays, 
The  Learn'd  to  fhow,  the  Senfible  commend, 
Yet  dill  preferve  the  province  of  the  Friend, 
What  life,  what  vigour  mud  the  lines  require  > 
What  Mufic  tune  them,  what  affection  fire  ? 

O  might  thy  Genius  in  my  bofom  mine! 
Thou  fhould'd  not  fail  of  numbers  worthy  thine ; 
The  brighteft  Ancients  might  at  once  agree, 
To  fing  within  my  lays,  and  fing  of  thee. 

Horace  himfelf  wou'd  own  thou  doft  excell 
In  candid  arts  to  play  the  Critic  well. 
Ovid  himfelf  might  wifh  to  fing  the  Dame, 
Whom  Windfor-Yoxzh  fees  a  gliding  dream : 
On  filver  feet,  with  annual  Ofier  crown'd, 
She  runs  for  ever  thro5  Poetic  ground. 

How  flame  the  glories  o$  Belinda's  Hair, 
Made  by  thy  Mufe  the  envy  of  the  Fair  ? 
Lefs  fhone  the  treffes  ^Egypt's  Princefs  wore, 
Which  fweet  Callimachus  fo  fiing  before. 
Here  courtly  trifles  fets  the  world  at  odds ; 
Belles  war  with  Beaus,  and  Whims  defcend  for  Gods. 
The  new  Machines,  in  names  of  ridicule, 
Mock  the  grave  frenzy  of  the  Chimick  fool. 
But  know,  ye  fair,  a  point  conceal'd  with  art, 
The  Sylphs  and  Gnomes  are  but  a  woman's  heart. 

c  The 


The  Graces  ftand  in  fight  y  a  Satyr-train, 

Peeps  o'er  their  head,  and  laughs  behind  the  fcene. 

In  Fame's  fair  Temple  o'er  the  boldeft  wits, 
Infhrin'd  on  high,  the  facred  Virgil  fits, 
And  fits  in  meafiires,  fuch  as  VirgiH  Mufe, 
To  place  thee  near  him,  might  be  fond  to  chufe. 
How  might  he  tune  th'  alternate  reed  with  thee, 
Perhaps  a  Strephon  thou,  a  Daphnis  he; 
While  fome  old  Damon>  o'er  the  vulgar  wife, 
Thinks  he  deferves,  and  thou  deferv'fl:  the  Prize. 
Rapt  with  the  thought,  my  fancy  feeks  the  plains, 
And  turns  me  fhepherd  while  I  hear  the  ftrains. 
Indulgent  nurfe  of  ev'ry  tender  gale, 
Parent  of  flowrets,  old  Arcadia  hail! 
Here  in  the  cool  my  limbs  at  eafe  Ilpread, 
Here  let  thy  Poplars  whifper  o?er  my  head! 
Still  Aide  thy  waters  foft  among  the  trees, 
Thy  Afpins  quiver  in  a  breathing  breeze ! 
Smile,  all  ye  valleys,  in  eternal  fpring, 
Be  hufh'd,  ye  winds !  while  Pope  and  Plrgil  fing- 

In  Engl'rfh  lays,  and  all  fublknely  great, 
Thy  Homer  warms  with,  all  his  ancient  heat,- 
He  mines  in  Council,  thunders  in  the  fight, 
And  flames  with  ev'ry  fenfe  of  great  delight. 
Long  has  that  Poet  reign'd,  and  long  unknown,. 
Like  Monarchs  fparkling  on  a  diflant  throne ,-, 
In  all  the  majefty  of  Greek  retir'd, 
Himfelf  unknown,  his  mighty  name  adnnVd  ,• 
His  language  failing,  wrapt  him*  round  with  night ; 
Thine,  rais'd'  by  thee,  recalls  the  work  to  light. 
So  wealthy  Mines,,  that  ages  long,  before 
Fed  the  large  realms  around  with  golden  Oar^ 


When 


( 


When  choak'd  by  finking  banks,  no  more  appear, 
And  fhepherds  only  fay,  The  mines  were  here : 
Should  fbme  rich  youth  (if  nature  warm  his  heart, 
And  all  his  projects  ftand  inform'd  with  art) 
Here  clear  the  caves,  there  ope  the  leading  vein  ^ 
The  mines  detected  flame  with  gold  again. 

How  vaft,  how  copious  are  thy  new  defigns  \ 
How  ev'ry  Mufic  varies  in  thy  lines ! 
Still,  as  I  read,  I  feel  my  bofbm  beat, 
And  rife  in  raptures  by  another's  heat. 
Thus  in  the  wood,  when  fummer  drefs'd  the  days, 
When  Windfir  lent  us  tuneful  hours  of  eafe, 
Our  ears  the  lark,  the  thrum,  the  turtle  bleft, 
And  Philomela  fweeteft  o'er  the  reft : 

The  (hades  refound  with  fbng O  foftly  tread, 

While  a  whole  feafon  warbles  round  my  head. 

This  to  my  friend and  when  a  friend  infpires, 

My  filent  harp  its  mafter's  hand  requires, 
Shakes  off  the  duft,  and  makes  thefe  rocks  refound  -, 
For  fortune  plac'd  me  in  unfertile  ground. 
Far  from  the  joys  that  with  my  foul  agree, 

From  wit,  from  learning very  far  from  thee. 

Here  mofs-grown  trees  expand  the  fmallefl  leaf; 
Here  half  an  Acre's  corn  is  half  a  fheaf,- 
Here  hills  with  naked  heads  the  tempeft  meet, 
Rocks  at  their  fides,  and  torrents  at  their  feet ; 
Or  lazy  lakes,  unconfeious  of  a  flood, 
Whofe  dull,  brown  Naiads  ever  fleep  in  mud. 
Yet  here  Content  can  dwell,  and  learned  eafe, 
A  Friend  delight  me,  and  an  Author  pleafe  ; 
Ev?n  here  I  fing,  when  Pope  fupplies  the  theme, 
Shew  my  own  love,  tho'  not  inereafe  his  fame. 

T.  Parnell. 


To  Mr.  POPE,  on  the  publiihing 

his  Wo  rks.   i 


HE  comes,  he  comes !  bid  ev'ry  Bard  prepare 
The  fong  of  triumph,  and  attend  his  Car. 
Great  Sheffield's  Mufe  the  long  proceflion  heads, 
And  throws  a  luftre  o'er  the  pomp  me  leads, 
Firft  gives  the  Palm  (he  fir'd  him  to  obtain, 
Crowns  his  gay  brow,  and  fhows  him  how  to  reign. 
Thus  young  Alcides,  by  old  Chiron  taught, 
Was  form'd  for  all  the  miracles  he  wrought,- 
Thus  Chiron  did  the  youth  he  taught  applaud, 
Pleas'd  to  behold  the  earned  of  a  God. 

But  hark  what  fhouts,  what  gath'ring  crowds  rejoice,- 
Unftain'd  their  praife  by  any  venal  voice, 
Such  as  th'Ambitious  vainly  think  their  due, 
When  Proftitutes,  or  needy  Flatt'rers  fue. 
And  fee  the  Chief:  before  him  laurels  born, 
Trophies  from  undeferving  temples  torn  ,- 
Here  Rage  enchain'd  reluctant  raves,  and  there 
Pale  Envy,  dumb,    and  llckning  with  delpair; 
Prone  to  the  earth  fhe  bends  her  loathing  eye, 
Weak  to  fupport  the  blaze  of  majefly. 

But  what  are  they  that  turn  the  facred  page  ? 
Three  lovely  Virgins,  and  of  equal  age,- 
Intent  they  read,  and  all-enamour'd  feem, 
As  He  that  met  his  likenefs  in  the  ftream : 

The 


, 


The  Graces  thefe  j    and  fee  how  they  contend, 
Who  rnoft  fhall  praife,  who  beft:  mall  recommend? 

The  Chariot  now  the  painful  fteep  afcends ; 
The  Poeans  ceafe  ;    thy  glorious  labour  ends. 
Here  fix'd,  the  bright  eternal  Temple  (lands, 
Its  profpecl:  an  unbounded  view  commands : 
Say,  wondrous  youth,  what  Column  wilt  thou  chufe, 
What  laurell'd  Arch  for  thy  triumphant  Mufe  ? 
Thos  each  great  Ancient  court  thee  to  his  fhrine, 
Tho'  ev'ry  Laurel  thro  the  dome  be  thine ; 
(From  the  proud  Epic,   down  to  thofe  that  (hade 
The  gentler  brow  of  the  foft  Lesbian  maid) 
Go  to  the  Good  and  Juft,  an  awful  train, 
Thy  foul's  delight,  and  glory  of  the  Fane : 
While  thro'  the  earth  thy  dear  remembrance  flies, 
cc  Sweet  to  the  world,  and  grateful  to  the  skies. 


Simon  Har  court. 


THE 


""St 


wwxe'TOnx'ra 


THE 


TABLE 


PASTORALS. 

ADifcourfe  on  Pastoral  Poetry,.  p.  i. 

Spring,  the  fir  ft  P  aft  oral,  p.  i  v.. 

Summer,  the  fecond  Paftoral,  p.  18. 

Autumn,  the  third  Paftoralf  p.  24. 

Winter,  the  fourth  Pa  floral,  P-3°» 
Messiah,  a  facred Eclogue,  in  imitation  of  Virgil's  Pollio,  p.  36". 

WIN  D  S  O  R-FOREST, 

To  the  Right  Honourable  George  Lord  Lanfdowrii,  p.  47: 

ESSAY   on  CRITIC  ISM,  p  .73. 

The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK,. 

An  Herowomkal  Poem.     The  firfl  Canto,  p.  1 1  x . 

The  fecond  Canto,  p.  1 3  o> 

7#£  *£/r^/  Canto,.  p.  138. 

Tfo  fourth  Canto,.  p.  148, 

Tfte  ^//#  Canto ,,  p.  1.5.8; 

2&  T  E  M  P  LE  0/  FAME,  p.  itf/. 

TRANS  LAr 


^> 


TRANSLATIONS. 

January  and^AAY,  or the  Merchant 'sTale,  from  Chaucer,  p.  199. 

The  Wife  a/Bath,  from  Chaucer,  p.  245-. 

Sapho  to  Phaon,  an  Epiftle,  from  Ovid,  p.  271. 

Vertumnus  and  Pomona,  from  the  fourteenth  Booh,  of  Ovid'* 
Metamorphofis,  p.  187. 

The  Fable  a/Dryope,  from  the  ninth  Book  of  Ovid's  Metamor- 
phofis, p.  294. 

The  firfi  Book  of  Statius  his  Thebais,  P«3oi. 

Part  of  the  thirteenth  Book  0/ Homer's  Odysseis,  p.  349. 

The  Gardens  of  Alcinous  ,  from  the  ninth  Book  of  Homer's 
Odysseis,  P-3^J. 

MISCELLANIES. 

Ode  for  Musick  on  St.  Cecilia'5  Day  p.  371. 

Two  Chorus's  to  the  Tragedy  o/^Brutus,  not  yet  publick,  p.  37 '9. 
Chorus  0/ Athenians,  ibid. 

Chorus  of  Youths  and  Virgins,  p.  3  8  2. 

Verses  to  the  memory  of  an  unfortunate  Lady,  p.  385-. 

To  Mr.  Jervas,  with  Frefnoy's  Art  of  Painting,  tranflated  by 
Mr.  Dryden,  p.  390. 

To  a  young  Lady ,  with  the  Works  of  Voitnre,  p.  395. 

To  the  fame ,    on  her  leaving  the  Town  after  the  Coronation, 

p.  400. 

On  a  Fan  of  the  Author's  deftgn,  in  which  was  painted  the  ftory 
0/Cephalis  tfWProcris,  with  the  Motto,  Auraveni,    p.  403. 

On  Silence,  in  imitation  of  the  flyle  of  the  late  E.  ofK.  p.  404. 

Epitaph,  p.  407. 

Prologue  to  Mr.  Addifon's  Tragedy  of  Cato,  p. 408. 

Epilogue  to  Jane  Shore,  p. 411. 

Occafion'd  by  fome  Versfs  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Buckin- 
gham, p-41^ 

Eloisa  to  Abelard,  an  Epiftle*  P-4I5« 

PASTORALS, 


mMmmmmmmmmMmmmmmmmmmmmmmm®®®®®® 


PASTORALS, 


W  I  T  H    A 


DISCOURSE  on  PASTORAL. 


Written  in  the  Year  1704. 


Rura  mihi  &.  rigui  phceant  in  vattihus  awnes, 

Flumina  amem,  Jylvafque,  inghrius! 

VIRG. 


\ 

/ 


DISCOURSE 


O   N 


PASTORAL     POETRY. 


HERE  are  not,  I  believe,  a 
greater  number  of  any  fort  of 
verfes  than  of  thofe  which  are 
called  Part  orals,  nor  a  fmaller, 
than  of  thofe  which  are  truly  fo. 
It  therefore  feems  neceflary  to 
give  fome  account  of  this  kind  of  Poem,  and  it 
is  my  defign  to  comprize  in  this  ihort  paper  the 
fubftance  of  thofe  numerous  differtations  the  Cri- 
ticks  have  made  on  the  fubjeft,  without  omitting 
any  of  their  rules  in  my  own  favour.  You 
will  alfo  find  fome  points  reconciled,  about  which 
they  feem  to  differ,  and  a  few  remarks  which  I 
think  have  efcaped  their  obfervation. 

B  2  The 


A  Discourse  on 

The  original  of  Poetry  is  afcribed  to  that  age 
which  fucceeded  the  creation  of  the  world :  And 
as  the  keeping  of  flocks  feems  to  have  been  the  firft 
employment  of  mankind,  the  moft  ancient  fort  of 
poetry  was  probably  paftoral.  5Tis  natural  to 
imagine,  that  the  leifure  of  thofe  ancient  fhep- 
herds  requiring  fome  diverfion,  none  was  fo  pro- 
per to  that  folitary  life  as  finging  ;  and  that  in 
their  fongs  they  took  occafion  to  celebrate  their 
own  felicity.  From  hence  a  Poem  was  invented, 
and  afterwards  improv'd  to  a  perfe6t  image  of 
that  happy  time ;  which  by  giving  us  an  efteem 
for  the  virtues  of  a  former  age,  might  recom- 
mend them  to  the  prefent.  And  fince  the  life  of 
Jhepherds  was  attended  with  more  tranquillity 
than  any  other  rural  employment,  the  Poets  chofe 
to  introduce  their  Perfons,  from  whom  it  receiv'd 
the  name  of  Paftoral. 

A  Paftoral  is  an  imitation  of  the  adtion  of  a 
fhepherd ;  the  form  of  this  imitation  is  drama- 
tic ,  or  narrative ,  or  mix'd  of  both ;  the  fable 
limple,  the  manners  not  too  polite  nor  too  ruftic : 
The  thoughts  are  plain,  yet  admit  a  little  quick- 
nefs  and  paflion,  but  that  lhort  and  flowing  :  The 
expreflion  humble,  yet  as  pure  as  the  language  will 
afford ;  neat,  but  not  florid ;  eafy,  and  yet  lively. 
In  lhort,  the  fable,  manners,  thoughts,  and  exprefli- 
ons;  are  full  of  the  greateft  limplicity  in  nature. 

The 


' 


Pastoral   Poetry. 

The  complete  charaiter  of  this  poem  confifts 
in  fimplicity,  brevity,  and  delicacy;  the  two  firffc 
of  which  render  an  eclogue  natural,  and  the  la  ft 
delightful. 

If  we  would  copy  Nature,  it  may  be  ufeful  to 
take  this  conlideration  along  with  us,  that  pafto- 
ral  is  an  image  of  what  they  call  the  Golden  age. 
So  that  we  are  not  to  defcribe  our  fliepherds  as 
fliepherds  at  this  day  really  are,  but  as  they  may 
be  conceived  then  to  have  been ;  when  a  notion 
of  quality  was  annexM  to  that  name,  and  the 
beft  of  men  followed  the  employment.  To  carry 
this  refemblance  yet  farther,  that  Air  of  piety  to 
the  Gods  fhould  fliine  thro'  the  Poem,  which  fo 
vifibly  appears  in  all  the  works  of  antiquity  :  And 
it  ought  to  prefer ve  fome  relilh  of  the  old  way 
of  writing ;  the  connections  fhould  be  loofe,  the 
narrations  and  defcriptions  fhort,  and  the  periods 
concife.  Yet  it  is  not  fufficient  that  the  fen* 
tences  only  be  brief,  the  whole  Eclogue  fhould 
be  fo  too.  For  we  cannot  fuppofe  Poetry  to  have 
been  the  bufinefs  of  the  ancient  fliepherds,  but 
their  recreation  at  vacant  hours. 

But  with  a  refpeet  to  the  prefent  age,  nothing 
more  conduces  to  make  thefe  compofures  natural, 
than  when  fome  Knowledge  in  rural  affairs  is 
difcover'd.  This  may  be  made  to  appear  rather 
done  by  chance  than  on  defigi\  and  fometimes  is 

beft 


\ 


A  Discourse  on 

bell  fliewn  by  inference  ;  left  by  too  much  ftiidy 
to  feem  natural,  we  deftroy  the  delight.  For 
what  is  inviting  in  this  fort  of  poetry  (as  Fonte- 
nette  obferves)  proceeds  not  fo  much  from  the 
Idea  of  a  country  life  itfelf,  as  from  that  of  its 
Tranquillity.  We  mull  therefore  ufe  fome  illu- 
fion  to  render  a  Paftoral  delightful ;  and  this  con- 
fids  in  expofing  the  beft  fide  only  of  a  lhepherd's 
life,  and  in  concealing  its  miferies.  Nor  is  it 
enough  to  introduce  lhepherds  difcourfing  toge- 
ther ,  but  a  regard  muft  be  had  to  the  fubjed: ; 
that  it  contain  fome  particular  beauty  in  itfelf, 
and  that  it  be  different  in  every  Eclogue.  Be- 
fides,  in  each  of  them  a  defign'd  fcene  or  profpe6t 
is  to  be  prefented  to  our  view,  which  fhould  like- 
wife  have  its  variety.  This  Variety  is  obtain'd  in 
a  great  degree  by  frequent  comparifons,  drawn 
from  the  moft  agreeable  objects  of  the  country ; 
by  interrogations  to  things  inanimate ;  by  beauti- 
ful digreffions,  but  thofe  fliort ;  fometimes  by  in- 
filling a  little  on  circumftances  ;  and  laftly  by 
elegant  turns  on  the  words,  which  render  the 
numbers  extremely  fweet  and  pleafing.  As  for 
the  numbers  themfelves,  tho5  they  are  properly 
of  the  heroic  meafure,  they  fhould  be  the  fmootheft, 
the  moft  eafy  and  flowing  imaginable. 

It  is  by  rules  like  thefe  that  we  ought  to  judge 
of  Paftoral.     And  fince  the  inftruitions  given  for 

any 


t 


Pastoral  Poetry. 

any  art  are  to  be  deliver'd  as  that  art  is  in  perfe- 
ction, they  muffc  of  neceflity  be  deriv'd  from  thofe 
in  whom  it  is  acknowledged  fo  to  be.  'Tis  there- 
fore from  the  practice  of  Theocritus  and  Virgil, 
(the  only  undifputed  authors  of  Paftoral)  that 
the  Criticks  have  drawn  the  foregoing  notions 
concerning  it 

Theocritus  excells  all  others  in  nature  and  fim- 
plicity.  The  fubjetfts  of  his  Idyttia  are  purely 
paftoral,  but  he  is  not  fo  exa£t  in  his  perfons, 
having  introduced  Reapers  and  fifhermen  as  well 
as  fhepherds.  He  is  apt  to  be  long  in  his  defcri- 
ptions,  of  which  that  of  the  Cup  in  the  firft  pa- 
ftoral is  a  remarkable  inftance.  In  the  manners 
he  feems  a  little  defective,  for  his  fwains  are  fome- 
times  abufive  and  immodeft,  and  perhaps  too 
much  inclining  to  rufticity ;  for  inftance,  in  his 
fourth  and  fifth  IdjUia.  But  'tis  enough  that  all 
others  learn'd  their  excellencies  from  him,  and 
that  his  Dialed:  alone  has  a  fecret  charm  in  it 
which  no  other  could  ever  attain. 

Virgil  who  copies  Theocritus,  refines  upon  his 
original :  and  in  all  points  where  Judgment  has 
the  principal  part,  is  much  fuperior  to  his  mafter. 
Tho'  fome  of  his  fubje<5ts  are  not  paftoral  in 
themfelves,  but  only  feem  to  be  fuch ;  they  have 
a  wonderful  variety  in  them  which  the  Greek 
was  a  ftranger  to.     He  exceeds  him  in  regularity 

and 


8  A  Discourse  on 

and  brevity,  and  falls  fhort  of  him  in  nothing 
but  fimplicity  and  propriety  of  ftyle ;  the  firft 
of  which  perhaps  was  the  fault  of  his  age,  and 
the  laft  of  his  language. # 

Among  the  moderns,  their  fuccefs  has  been 
greateft  who  have  moft  endeavour'd  to  make  thefe 
ancients  their  pattern.  The  moft  confiderable 
Genius  appears  in  the  famous  Tajb,  and  our 
Spenfer.  Tajfo  in  his  Arninta  has  as  far  excelled 
all  the  Paftoral  writers,  as  in  his  Gierufalemme  he 
has  outdone  the  Epic  Poets  of  his  country.  But 
as  this  piece  feems  to  have  been  the  original  of  a 
new  fort  of  poem,  the  Paftoral  Comedy,  in 
Italy,  it  cannot  fo  well  be  confider'd  as  a  copy 
of  the  ancients.  Spenfer's  Calender ',  in  Mr.  Dryden's 
opinion,  is  the  moft  complete  work  of  this  kind 
which  any  Nation  has  produc'd  ever  fince  the 
time  of  Virgil.  Not  but  he  may  be  thought  im- 
perfect in  fome  few  points.  His  Eclogues  are 
fomewhat  too  long,  if  we  compare  them  with 
the  ancients.  He  is  fometimes  too  allegorical, 
and  treats  of  matters  of  religion  in  a  paftoral 
ftyle  as  Mantuan  had  done  before  him.  He  has 
employ 'd  the  Lyric  meafure,  which  is  contrary 
to  the  practice  of  the  old  Poets.  His  Stanza  is 
not  ftiil  the  fame,  nor  always  well  chofen.  This 
laft  may  be  the  reafon  his  expreflion  is  fometimes 
not    concife    enough  :     for    the  Tetraftic     has 

oblig'd 


Pastoral  Poetry. 

oblig'd  him  to  extend  his  fenfe  to  the  length  of 
four  lines,  which  would  have  been  more  clofelv 
confin'd  in  the  Couplet. 

In  the  manners,  thoughts,  and  characters,  he 
comes  near  Theocritus  himfelf ;  tho'  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  care  he  has  taken,  he  is  certainly  in- 
ferior in  his  Dialed  :  For  the  Doric  had  its 
beauty  and  propriety  in  the  time  of  Theocritus  ; 
it  was  ufed  in  part  of  Greece,  and  frequent  in  the 
mouths  of  many  of  the  greateft  perfons ;  whereas 
the  old  Englijh  and  country  phrafes  of  Spenfer 
were  either  entirely  obfolete,  or  fpoken  only  by 
people  of  the  bafeft  condition.  As  there  is  a  dif- 
ference betwixt  fimplicity  and  rufticity,  fo  the  ex- 
preflion  of  fimple  thoughts  fliould  be  plain,  but 
not  clownilh.  The  addition  he  has  made  of  a 
Calendar  to  his  Eclogues  is  very  beautiful :  fince 
by  this,  beifides  that  general  moral  of  innocence 
and  fimplicity,  which  is  common  to  other  authors 
of  paftoral,  he  has  one  peculiar  to  himfelf;  he 
compares  human  Life  to  the  feveral  Seafons,  and 
at  once  expofes  to  his  readers  a  view  of  the  great 
and  little  worlds,  in  their  various  changes  and 
afpe6h.  Yet  the  fcrupulous  divifion  of  his  Pa- 
ftorals  into  Months,  has  oblig'd  him  either  to 
repeat  the  fame  defcription,  in  other  words,  for 
three  months  together ;  or  when  it  was  exhaufted 
before,  entirely  to  omit  it :  whence  it  comes  to  pafs 

C  that 


io  ^  Discourse  ^//,  &c. 

that  fome  of  his  Eclogues  (as  the  fixth,  eighth, 
and  tenth  for  example)  have  nothing  but  their 
Titles  to  diftinguifh  them.  The  reafon  is  evident, 
becaufe  the  year  has  not  that  variety  in  it  to  fur- 
nifh  every  month  with  a  particular  defcription, 
as  it  may  every  feafon. 

Of  the  following  Eclogues  I  fliall  only  fay, 
that  thefe  four  comprehend  all  the  fubjeits  which 
the  Critics  upon  Theocritus  and  Virgil  will  al- 
low to  be  fit  for  paftoral  :  That  they  have  as 
much  variety  of  defcription,  in  refpe£t  of  the  fe- 
veral  feafons,  as  Spenfefs :  That  in  order  to  add 
to  this  variety,  the  feveral  times  of  the  day  are 
obferv'd,  the  rural  employments  in  each  feafon 
or  time  of  day,  and  the  rural  fcenes  or  places 
proper  to  fuch  employments ;  not  without  fome 
regard  to  the  feveral  ages  of  man,  and  the  diffe- 
rent paffions  proper  to  each  age. 

But  after  all,  if  they  have  any  merit,  it  is  to  be 
attributed  to  fome  good  old  Authors,  whofe  works 
as  I  had  leifure  to  ftudy,  fo  I  hope  I  have  not 
wanted  care  to  imitate* 


^STRING. 


SPRING. 


THE 


FIRST     PASTORAL. 

T   O 

Sir   WILLIAM   TRUMBAL. 

IRST  in  thefe  fields  I  try  the  fyl- 

van  ftrains, 
Nor  blufli  to  fport  on  Windfofs 
blifsful  plains : 
Fair  Thames  flow  gently  from  thy  facred  fpring, 
While  on  thy  banks  Sicilian  Mufes  fing ; 
Let  vernal  airs  thro'  trembling  ofiers  play, 
And  Albion's  cliffs  refound  the  rural  lay. 

C  2  You, 


12  PASTORALS. 

You,  that  too  wife  for  pride,  too  good  for  pow'r, 
Enjoy  the  glory  to  be  great  no  more, 
And  carrying  with  you  all  the  world  can  boaft, 
To  all  the  world  illuftrioufly  are  loft ! 
O  let  my  Mufe  her  flefider  reed  infpire, 
Till  in  your  native  fliades  you  tune  the  lyre  : 
So  when  the  Nightingale  to  reft  removes, 
The  Thrulh  may  chant  to  the  forfaken  groves, 
But,  charm'd  to  filence,  liftens  while  flie  fings, 
And  all  th'  aerial  audience  clap  their  wings. 

Daphnis  and  Strephon  to  the  ftiades  retir'd, 
Both  warm'd  by  Love,  and  by  the  Mufe  infpir'd  ; 
Frefh  as  the  morn,  and  as  the  feafon  fair, 
In  flow'ry  vales  they  fed  their  fleecy  care  ; 
And  while  Aurora  gilds  the  mountain's  fide, 
Thus  Daphnis  fpoke,  and  Strephon  thus  reply'd. 

DAPHNIS. 
Hear  how  the  birds,  on  ev'ry  bloomy  fpray, 
With  joyous  mufic  wake  the  dawning  day ! 

Why 


PASTORALS. 

Why  fit  we  mute  when  early  Linnets  fing, 
When  warbling  Philomel  falutes  the  fpring  ? 
Why  fit  we  fad  when  Pbofphor  fliines  fo  clear, 
And  lavifh  nature  paints  the  purple  year  ? 

STREPHON, 

Sing  then,  and  Damon  fhall  attend  the  ftrain, 
While  yon'  flow  Oxen  turn  the  furrow 'd  plain. 
Here  on  green  banks  the  blulhing  vi'lets  glow ; 
Here  weftern  winds  on  breathing  rofes  blow. 
I'll  ftake  my  lamb  that  near  the  fountain  plays, 
And  from  the  brink  his  dancing  fliade  furveys. 

D  A  P  H  N  I  S. 
And  I  this  bowl,  where  wanton  ivy  twines, 
And  fwelling  clufters  bend  the  curling  vines : 
Four  figures  rifing  from  the  work  appear, 
The  various  Seafons  of  the  rowling  year ; 
And  what  is  that,  which  binds  the  radiant  sky, 
Where  twelve  bright  Signs  in  beauteous  order  lie  ? 


n 


DAMON. 


t4  PASTORALS, 

D  A  M   O   N. 

Then  fing  by  turns,  by  turns  the  Mufes  ling, 
Now  hawthorns  blofTom,  now  the  daifies  fpring, 
Now  leaves  the  trees,  and  flow'rs  adorn  the  ground ; 
Begin,  the  vales  fliall  echo  to  the  found. 

STREPHON. 
Infpire  me,  Phoehus,  in  my  Delia's  praife 
With  Waller's  ftrains,  or  Granville's  moving  lays ! 
A  milk-white  bull  fhall  at  your  altars  ftand, 
That  threats  a  fight,  and  fpurns  the  riling  fand. 

D  A  P  H  N  I  S. 

O  Love !  for  Sylvia  let  me  gain  the  prize, 
And  make  my  tongue  victorious  as  her  eyes ; 
No  lambs  or  flieep  for  vi6Hms  I'll  impart, 
Thy  vi&im,  Love,  fliall  be  the  fliepherds  heart. 

STREPHON. 
Me  gentle  Delia  beckons  from  the  plain, 
Then  hid  in  fliades,  eludes  her  eager  fwain ; 
But  feigns  a  laugh,  to  fee  me  fearch  around, 
And  by  that  laugh  the  willing  fair  is  found. 

DAPHNIS. 


PASTORALS.  15 

DAPHNIS, 
The  fprightly  Sylvia  trips  along  the  green, 
She  runs,  but  hopes  flie  does  not  run  unfeen ; 
While  a  kind  glance  at  her  purfuer  flies, 
How  much  at  variance  are  her  feet  and  eyes! 

STREPHON. 
O'er  golden  fands  let  rich  Paffohs  flow, 
And  trees  weep  amber  on  the  banks  of  To ; 
Bleft  Thames's  lhores  the  brighteft  beauties  yield, 
Feed  here  my  lambs,  I'll  feek  no  diftant  field. 

DAPHNIS. 

Celeftial  Venus  haunts  Malta's  groves ; 
Diana  Cynthus^  Ceres  Hybla  loves ; 
If  JVindfor-fttfifes  delight  the  matchlefs  maid. 
Cynthus  and  HyMa  yield  to  Windfor-ihzde. 

STREPHON. 

All  nature  mourns,  the  skies  relent  in  fhow'rs, 
Hufli'd  are  the  birds,  and  clos'd  the  drooping  flow'rs  5 
If  Delia  fmile,  the  flow'rs  begin  to  fpring, 
The  skies  to  brighten,  and  the  birds  to  fing<. 

DAPHNIS, 


i6  PASTORALS. 

D  A  P  H  N  I  S. 

All  nature  laughs,  the  groves  frefli  honours  wear, 
The  Sun's  mild  luftre  warms  the  vital  air ; 
If  Sylvia  fmiles,  new  glories  gild  the  fhore, 
And  vanquifh'd  nature  feems  to  charm  no  more. 

STREPHON. 
In  fpring  the  fields,  in  autumn  hills  I  love, 
At  morn  the  plains,  at  noon  the  fhady  grove, 
But  Delia  always ;  forc'd  from  Delia's  fight, 
Nor  plains  at  morn,  nor  groves  at  noon  delight. 

D  A  P  H  N  I  S. 

Sylvia's  like  autumn  ripe,  yet  mild  as  May, 
More  bright  than  noon,  yet  frefli  as  early  day, 
Ev'n  fpring  difpleafes,  when  fhe  fliines  not  here, 
But  bleft  with  her,  'tis  fpring  throughout  the  year. 

STREPHON. 
Say,  fliepherd,  fay,  in  what  glad  foil  appears 
A  wond'rous  Tree  that  facred  Monarchs  bears  ? 
Tell  me  but  this,  and  I'll  difclaim  the  prize, 
And  give  the  conqueft  to  thy  Sylvia's  eyes. 

3  DAPHNIS. 


PASTORALS.  17 

D  A  P  H  N  I  S. 

Nay  tell  me  firft,  in  what  more  happy  fields 
The  Thiftle  fprings,  to  which  the  Lilly  yields  ? 
And  then  a  nobler  prize  I  will  refign, 
For  Sylvia,  charming  Sylvia,  fliall  be  thine. 

DAMON. 

Ceafe  to  contend,  for  (Daphnis)  I  decree 
The  bowl  to  Strephon,  and  the  lamb  to  thee  : 
Bleft  Swains,  whofe  Nymphs  in  ev'ry  grace  excell, 
Bleft  Nymphs,  whofe  Swains  thofe  graces  fing  fo  well! 
Now  rife  and  hafte  to  yonder  woodbine  bow'rs, 
A  foft  retreat  from  fudden  vernal  fliow'rs • 
The  turf  with  rural  dainties  fliall  be  crown'd, 
While  opening  blooms  diffufe  their  fweets  around. 
For  fee !  the  gathering  flocks  to  flicker  tend, 
And  from  the  Pleiads  fruitful  Ihow'rs  defcend. 


D  SUMMER. 


6 
\ 


SUMMER. 


T  H  E 


SECOND    PASTORAL 


to    Dr.  GARTH. 

faithful   fwain ,    whom   Love    had 

taught  to  fing, 
BewaiPd   his    fate    befide   a   filver 
Spring; 

Where  gentle"  Thames  his  winding  waters  leads 
Thro5  verdant  forefts,  and  thro'  flow'ry  meads. 
There  while  he  mourn'd,  the  ftreams  forgot  to  flow, 
The  flocks  around  a  dumb  compaflion  fhow, 

The 


PASTORALS,  i? 

The  Naiads  wept  in  ev'ry  wat'ry  bow'r, 

And  Jove  confented  in  a  fi  lent  fhow'r. 
Accept,  O  Garth,  the  Mufe's  early  lays, 

That  adds  this  wreath  of  Ivy  to  thy  Bays ; 

Hear  what  from  Love  unpra6Hs'd  hearts  endure, 
From  Love,  the  fole  difeafe  thou  canft  not  cure ! 

Ye  Ihady  beeches,  and  ye  cooling  ftreams, 
Defence  from  Phoebus,  not  from  Cupid's  beams, 
To  you  I  mourn,    nor  to  the  deaf  I  fing, 
The  woods  fliall  anfwer,  and  their  echo  ring. 
Ev'n  hills  and  rocks  attend  my  doleful  lay, 
Why  art  thou  prouder  and  more  hard  than  they? 
The  bleating  fheep  with  my  complaints  agree, 
They  parch?d  with  heat,  and  I  enflam'd  by  thee. 
The  fultry  Sirius  burns  the  thirfty  plains, 
While  in  thy  heart  eternal  winter  reigns. 

Where  ftray  ye  Mufes,  in  what  lawn  or  grove, 
While  your  Alexis  pines  in  hopelefs  love. 
In  thofe  fair  fields  where  facred  IJis  glides, 
Or  elfe  where  Cam  his  winding  vales  divides  ? 

D  2  As 


so  PASTORALS. 

As  in  the  cryftal  fpring  I  view  my  face, 
Frefh  rifing  blufhes  paint  the  wat'ry  glafs  ; 
But  fince  thofe  graces  pleafe  thy  fight  no  more, 
I  fhun  the  fountains  which  I  fought  before. 
Once  I  was  skilPd  in  ev'ry  herb  that  grew, 
And  ev'ry  plant  that  drinks  the  morning  dew ; 
Ah  wretched  fhepherd,  what  avails  thy  art, 
To  cure  thy  lambs,  but  not  to  heal  thy  heart  L 

Let  other  fwains  attend  the  rural  care, 
Feed  fairer  flocks,  or  richer  fleeces  fhare ; 
But  nigh  that  mountain  let  me  tune  my  lays, 
Embrace  my  Love,  and  bind  my  brows  with  bays; 
That  flute  is  mine  which  Colin*  s  tuneful  breath 
Infpir'd  when  living,  and  bequeathed  in  death  ; 
He  faid  ;  Alexis,  take  this  pipe,  the  fame 

That  taught  the  groves  my  Rofalinda's  name 

But  now  the  reeds  fhall  hang  on  yonder  Tree, 
For  ever  filent,  fince  defpis'd  by  thee. 
Oh !  were  I  made  by  fome  transforming  pow'r 
The  captive  bird  that  fings  within  thy  bow'r  ! 

Them 


PASTORALS.  2i 

Then  might  my  voice  thy  liftning  ears  employ, 
And  I  thofe  kifles  he  receives,  enjoy. 

And  yet  my  numbers  pleafe  the  rural  throng, 
Rough  Satyrs  dance,  and  Pan  applauds  the  fong: 
The  Nymphs  forfaking  ev'ry  cave  and  fpring, 
Their  early  fruit,  and  milk-white  Turtles  bring ;.. 
Each  am'rous  nymph  prefers  her  gifts  in  vain, 
On  you  their  gifts  are  all  beftow'd  again ! 
For  you  the  fwains  the  faireffc  flow'rs  defign, 
And  in  one  garland  all  their  beauties  join ; 
Accept  the  wreath  which  you  deferve  alone, 
In  whom  all  beauties  are  compriz'd  in  one. 

See  what  delights  in  fylvan  fcenes  appear ! 
Defcending  Gods  have  found  Elyzium  here. 
In  woods  bright  Venus  with  Adonis  ftray'd, 
And  chafte  Diana  haunts  the  foreft-fhade. 
Come,  lovely  nymph,  and  blefs  the  filent  hours, 
When  fwains  from  Iheering  feek  their  nightly  bow'rs; 
When  weary  reapers  quit  the  fultry  field, 
And  crown'd  with  corn;  their  thanks  to  Ceres  yield. 

This. 


22  PASTORALS. 

This  harmlefs  grove  no  lurking  viper  hides, 
But  in  my  bread  the  ferpent  love  abides. 
Here  bees  from  blofToms  fip  the  rofy  dew, 
But  your  Alexis  knows  no  fweet  but  you. 
Some  God  conduct  vou  to  thefe  blifsful  feats, 
The  mofTy  fountains,  and  the  green  retreats  ! 
Where-e'er  you  walk,  cool  gales  fliall  fan  the  glade, 
Trees,  where  you  fit,  (hall  crowd  into  a  fhade, 
Where-e'er  you  tread,  the  blufhing  flow'rs  fliall  rife, 
And  all  things  flourifli  where  you  turn  your  eyes. 
Oh !  how  I  long  with  you  to  pafs  my  days, 
Invoke  the  Mufes,  and  refound  your  praife ; 
Your  praife  the  birds  fliall  chant  in  ev'ry  grove, 
And  winds  fliall  waft  it  to  the  pow'rs  above. 
But  would  you  fing,  and  rival  Orpheus'  ftrain, 
The  wond'ring  forefts  foon  fliould  dance  again, 
The  moving  mountains  hear  the  pow'rful  call, 
And  headlong  ftreams  hang  lift'ning  in  their  fall ! 
But  fee,  the  fhepherds  fliun  the  noon-day  heat, 
The  lowing  herds  to  murm'ring  brooks  retreat, 

«  To 


PASTORALS. 


23 


To  clofer  fhades  the  panting  flocks  remove, 
Ye  Gods !  and  is  there  no  relief  for  love  ? 
But  foon  the  Sun  with  milder  rays  defcends 
To  the  cool  ocean,  where  his  journey  ends; 
On  me  love's  fiercer  flames  for  ever  prey, 
By  night  he  fcorehes,  as  he  burns  by  day^ 


AUTUMN. 


AUTUMN. 


THE 


THIRD    PASTORAL 

To  Mr.  WTCHERLET. 


|  Eneath  the  ftiade  a  fpreading  Beech 
difplays, 
Hylas  and  ALgon  fung  their  rural 
lays, 

To  whofe  complaints  the  lift'ning  forefts  bend, 
While  one  his  Miftrefs  mourns  and  one  his  Friend  : 
Ye  Mantuan  nymphs,  your  facred  fuccour  bring ; 
Hylas  and  JEgon's  rural  lays  I  fing. 

*  Thou. 


PASTORALS.  25 

Thou,  whom  the  Nine  with  Plautus'  wit  infpire, 
The  art  of  Terence,  and  Menandefs  fire, 
Whofe  fenfe  inftru6ls  us,  and  whofe  humour  charms, 
Whofe  judgment  fways  us,  and  whofe  rapture  warms! 
Attend  the  Mufe,  tho'  low  her  numbers  be, 
She  fings  of  friendlhip,  and  fhe  fings  to  thee. 

Now  fetting  Phoebus  ftione  ferenely  bright, 
And  fleecy  clouds  were  ftreak'd  with  purple  light ; 
When  tuneful  Hylas  with  melodious  moan 
Taught  rocks  to  weep,  and  made  the  mountains  groan. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  fighs  away ! 
To  Thyrjis'  ear  the  tender  notes  convey ! 
As  fome  fad  Turtle  his  loft  Love  deplores, 
And  with  deep  murmurs  fills  the  founding  fliores; 
Thus,  far  from  Thyjis,  to  the  winds  I  mourn, 
Alike  unheard,  unpity'd,  and  forlorn. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  fighs  along ! 
For  him  the  feather'd  quires  negle&  their  fong ; 
For  him  the  Limes  their  pleafing  fliades  deny ; 
For  him  the  Lillies  hang  their  heads  and  die. 

E  Ye 


26  PASTORALS. 

Ye  flow'rs  that  droop,  forfaken  by  the  fpring, 
Ye  birds,  that  left  by  fummer,  ceafe  to  fing, 
Ye  trees  that  fade  when  autumn-heats  remove, 
Say,  is  not  abfence  death  to  thofe  who  love  ? 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  fighs  away ! 
Curs'd  be  the  fields  that  caufe  my  Thyrjis"  ftay : 
Fade  ev'ry  bloflbm,  wither  ev'ry  tree, 
Die  ev'ry  flow'r,  and  perilh  all,  but  he. 
What  have  I  faid  ?  —  where-e'er  my  Thyrjis  flies> 
Let  fpring  attend,  and  fudden  flow'rs  arife ; 
Let  opening  rofes  knotted  oaks  adorn, 
And  liquid  amber  drop  from  ev'ry  thorn. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  fighs  along ! 
The  birds  fliall  ceafe  to  tune  their  ev'ning  fong, 
The  winds  to  breathe,  the  waving  woods  to  move,  . 
And  ftreams  to  murmur,  e'er  I  ceafe  to  love. 
Not  bubling  fountains  to  the  thirfty  Swain, 
Not  balmy  fleep  to  lab'rers  faint  with  pain, 
Not  Ihow'rs  to  Larks,  or  funlhine  to  the  Bee, 
Are  half  fo  charming  as  thy  fight  to  me. 

a  Go, 


PASTORALS.  27 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  fighs  away ! 
Come,  Thyrjis,  come,  ah  why  this  long  delay  ? 
Thro'  rocks  and  caves  the  name  of  Thyrfis  founds, 
Thyrfis  y  each  cave  and  echoing  rock  rebounds. 
Ye  pow'rs,  what  pleafing  frenzy  fooths  my  mind ! 
Do  lovers  dream,  or  is  my  lhepherd  kind  ? 
He  comes,  my  lhepherd  comes !  — Now  ceafe  my  lay, 
And  ceafe,  ye  gales,  to  bear  my  fighs  away  ! 

Next  ALgon  fung,  while  Winifor  groves  admir'd, 
Rehearfe,  ye  Mufes,  what  your  felves  infpir'd. 

Refound,  ye  hills,  refound  my  mournful  ftrain ! 
Of  perjur'd  Doris,  dying  I  complain  ! 
Here  where  the  mountains,  lefs'ning  as  they  rife, 
Lofe  the  low  vales,  and  Ileal  into  the  skies. 
While  lab'ring  Oxen,  fpent  with  toil  and  heat, 
In  their  loofe  traces  from  the  field  retreat ; 
While  curling  fmoaks  from  village-tops  are  feen, 
And  the  fleet  fhades  glide  o'er  the  dusky  green. 

E  2  Refound, 


q8  pastorals. 

Refound,  ye  hills,  refound  my  mournful  lay ! 
Beneath  yon'  Poplar  oft'  we  paft  the  day : 
Oft'  on  the  rind  I  carv'd  her  am'rous  vows, 
While  fhe  with  garlands  grac'd  the  bending  boughs : 
The  garlands  fade,  the  vows  are  worn  away ; 
So  dies  her  love,  and  fo  my  hopes  decay. 

Refound,  ye  hills,  refound  my  mournful  ftrain ! 
Now  bright  Arfturus  glads  the  teeming  grain, 
Now  golden  fruits  on  loaded  branches  fhine, 
And  grateful  clufters  fwell  with  floods  of  wine ; 
Now  blufhing  berries  paint  the  yellow  grove ; 
Juft  Gods  !  fliall  all  things  yield  returns  but  love  ? 

Refound,  ye  hills,  refound  my  mournful  lay ! 
The  lhepherds  cry,  "  Thy  flocks  are  left  a  prey — 
Ah  !  what  avails  it  me,  the  flocks  to  keep, 
Who  loft:  my  heart  while  I  preferv'd  my  flieep. 
Pan  came,  and  ask'd,  what  magic  caus'd  my  fmart, 
Or  what  ill  eyes  malignant  glances  dart  ? 
What  eyes  but  hers,  alas,  have  pow'r  to  move ! 
And  is  there  magic  but  what  dwells  in  love  ? 

Refound, 


PASTORALS.  29 

Refound,  ye  hills,  refound  my  mournful  ftrains ! 
I'll  fly  from  fhepherds,  flocks,  and  flow'ry  plains. — 
From  fhepherds,  flocks,  and  plains,  I  may  remove, 
Forfake  mankind,  and  all  the  world — but  love ! 
I  know  thee  Love !  wild  as  the  raging  main, 
More  fell  than  Tygers  on  the  Lyhian  plain ; 
Thou  wert  from  ALtna\  burning  entrails  torn, 
Got  by  fierce  whirlwinds,  and  in  thunder  born ! 

Refound,  ye  hills,  refound  my  mournful  lay ! 
Farewell,  ye  woods !  adieu,  the  light  of  day ! 
One  leap  from  yonder  cliff"  fhall  end  my  pains. 
No  more,  ye  hills,  no  more  refound  my  ftrains ! 

Thus  fung  the  fhepherds  till  th' approach  of  night, 
The  skies  yet  blufliing  with  departing  light, 
When  falling  dews  with  fpangles  deck'd  the  glade, 
And  the  low  Sun  had  lengthened  ev'ry  lhade. 


WINTER. 


MTV  <-<T><  lfi)»  <-« 


^** 


IOJ 


SKTcJ 


?se* 


»VJh, 


i«e/«i 


PJSSIO, 


W  I    N    TT    E    K. 


T   H   E 


FOURTH    PASTORAL 

To  the  Memory  of  Mrs.  TEMPEST. 


L  Y  C  I  D  A  S. 

Hyrjis,  the  mufick  of  that  murm  ring 

fpring, 
Is  not  fo  mournful  as  the  flrains  you 


ling. 


Nor  rivers  winding  thro5  the  vales  below, 
So  fweetly  warble,  or  fo  fmoothly  flow. 
Now  fleeping  flocks  on  their  foft  fleeces  lie, 
The  moon,  ferene  in  glory,  mounts  the  sky, 


While 


w        PASTORALS.  3i 

While  filent  birds  forget  their  tuneful  lays, 
Oh  ling  of  Daphne's  fate,  and  Daphne's  praife ! 

THYRSIS. 
Behold  the  groves  that  fhine  with  filver  froft, 
Their  beauty  wither 'd,  and  their  verdure  loft. 
Here  lhall  I  try  the  fweet  Alexis'  ftrain, 
That  calPd  the  lift'ning  Dryads  to  the  plain  ? 
Thames  heard  the  numbers  as  he  flow'd  along, 
And  bade  his  willows  learn  the  moving  fong. 

L  Y  C  I  D  A  s. 
So  may  kind  rains  their  vital  moifture  yield. 
And  fwell  the  future  harveft  of  thy  field. 
Begin ;    this  charge  the  dying  Daphne  gave, 
And  faid ;  "  Ye  lhepherds,  fing  around  my  grave  1 
Sing,  while  befide  the  fliaded  Tomb  I  mourn, 
And  with  frefh  bays  her  rural  fhrine  adorn. 

T  H  Y  R  S  I  S. 

Ye  gentle  Mufes  leave  your  cryftal  fpring, 
Let  Nymphs  and  Sylvans  cyprefs  garlands  bring ;: 


Ye 


32 


PASTORALS. 

Ye  weeping  Loves,  the  ftream  with  myrtles  hide, 
And  break  your  bows,  as  when  Adonis  dy'd ; 
And  with  your  golden  darts,  now  ufelefs  grown, 
Infcribe  a  verfe  on  this  relenting  ftone: 
"  Let  nature  change,   let  heav'n  and  earth  deplore, 
a  Fair  Daphne's  dead,  and  love  is  now  no  more ! 

*Tis  done,  and  nature's  various  charms  decay ; 
See  gloomy  clouds  obfcure  the  chearful  day  ! 
Now  hung  with  pearls  the  dropping  trees  appear, 
Their  faded  honours  fcatterM  on  her  bier. 
See,  where  on  earth  the  flow'ry  glories  lie, 
With  her  they  flourilh'd,  and  with  her  they  die. 
Ah  what  avail  the  beauties  nature  wore  ? 
Fair  Daphne's  dead,  and  beauty  is  no  more ! 

For  her,  the  flocks  refufe  their  verdant  food, 
Nor  thirfty  heifers  feek  the  gliding  flood. 
The  filver  fwans  her  haplefs  fate  bemoan, 
In  fadder  notes  than  when  they  fing  their  own. 
Echo  no  more  the  rural  fong  rebounds, 
Her  name  alone  the  mournful  Echo  founds, 

Her 


PASTORALS. 

Her  name  with  pleafure  once  fhe  taught  the  fhore. 
Now  Daphne's  dead,  and  pleafure  is  no  more ! 

No  grateful  dews  defcend  from  ev'ning  skies, 
Nor  morning  odours  from  the  flow'rs  arife. 
No  rich  perfumes  refrefh  the  fruitful  field, 
Nor  fragrant  herbs  their  native  incenfe  yield. 
The  balmy  Zephyrs,  filent  fince  her  death, 
Lament  the  ceafing  of  a  fweeter  breath. 
Th'  induftrious  bees  neglect  their  golden  (lore ; 
Fair  Daphne's  dead,  and  fweetnefs  is  no  more ! 

No  more  the  mounting  Larks,  while  Daphne  fings, 
Shall  lift'ning  in  mid  air  fufpend  their  wings ; 
No  more  the  Nightingales  repeat  her  lays, 
Or  hufh'd  with  wonder,  hearken  from  the  fprays : 
No  more  the  ftreams  their  murmurs  fliall  forbear, 
A  fweeter  mufic  than  their  own  to  hear ; 
But  tell  the  reeds,  and  tell  the  vocal  ftiore, 
Fair  Daphne's  dead,  and  mufic  is  no  more  ! 

Her  fate  is  whifper'd  by  the  gentle  breeze, 
And  told  in  fighs  to  all  the  trembling  trees ; 

F  The 


33 


34- 


PASTORALS. 

The  trembling  trees,  in  ev'ry  plain  and  wood, 
Her  fate  remurmur  to  the  fi  lver  flood  ; 
The  filver  flood,  fo  lately  calm,  appears 
Swell'd  with  new  paflion,  and  o'erflows  with  tears ; 
The  winds  and  trees  and  floods  her  death  deplore, 
Daphne ,  our  grief!  our  glory  now  no  more! 

But  fee !  where  Daphne  wondring  mounts  on  high, 
Above  the  clouds,  above  the  ftarry  sky ! 
Eternal  beauties  grace  the  Alining  fcene, 
Fields  ever  frelh,  and  groves  for  ever  green  ! 
There  while  you  reft  in  Amaranthine  bow'rs, 
Or  from  thofe  meads  felect  unfading  flow  rs, 
Behold  us  kindly  who  your  name  implore, 
Daphne,  our  Goddefs,  and  our  grief  no  more ! 

L  Y  C  I  D  A  S. 
How  all  things  liften,  while  thy  Mufe  complains! 
Such  filence  waits  on  Philomela's  ftrains, 
In  fome  ftill  ev'ning,  when  the  whifp'ring  breeze 
Pants  on  the  leaves,  and  dies  upon  the  trees. 


To 


PASTORALS. 

To  thee,  bright  Goddefs,  oft'  a  lamb  fliall  bleed, 
If  teeming  ewes  encreafe  my  fleecy  breed. 
While  plants  their  fhade,  or  flow 'rs  their  odours  give, 
Thy  name,  thy  honour,  and  thy  praife  fhall  live ! 

T  H  Y  R  S  I  S. 
See  pale  Orion  lheds  unwholfome  dews, 
Arife,  the  pines  a  noxious  fliade  diffufe ; 
Sharp  Boreas  blows,  and  nature  feels  decay, 
Time  conquers  all,  and  we  muft  Time  obey. 
Adieu  ye  vales,  ye  mountains,  ftreams  and  groves, 
Adieu  ye  ihepherd's  rural  lays  and  loves, 
Adieu  my  flocks,  farewell  ye  fylvan  crew, 
Daphne  farewell,  and  all  the  world  adieu ! 


35 


MESSIAH. 


MESSIAH. 


Sacred  Eclogue, 

In  imitation  of  Virgil s  Pollio. 

E  Nymphs  of  Solyrna !   begin  the 

fong : 
To  heav'hly  themes  fublimer  ftrains 
belong. 

The  moffy  fountains  and  the  fylvan  fliadesj 
The  dreams  of  Findus  and  tKAonian  maids, 
Delight  no  more — O  thou  my  voice  infpire 

Who  touched  IfakFs  hallow' d  lips  with  fire ! 

Rapt 


PASTORALS. 

Rapt  into  future  times,  the  Bard  begun, 
A  Virgin  fhall  conceive,  a  Virgin  bear  a  Son! 
From  ■  Jejfe's  root  behold  a  branch  arife, 
Whofe  facred  flow'r  with  fragrance  fills  the  skies. 
Th'^Ethereal  fpirit  o'er  its  leaves  fhall  move, 
And  on  its  top  defcends  the  myftic  Dove. 
Ye  2  heav'ns !  from  high  the  dewy  neikr  pour, 
And  in  foft  filence  flied  the  kindly  fhow'r ! 
The  3fick  and  weak  the  healing  plant  fhall  aid,, 
From  ftorms  a  fhelter,  and  from  heat  a  fbade. 
All  crimes.- fhall  ceafe,  and  ancient  fraud  fhall  fail; 
Returning  4  Juftice  lift  aloft  her  fcale ; 
Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  wand  extend- 
And  white-rob'd  Innocence  from  heav'n  defcend. 
Swift  fly  the  years,  and  rife  th' expe61ed  morn! 
Oh  fpring  to  light,  aufpicious  Babe,  be  born  ! 
See  Nature  haftes  her  earlieft  wreaths  to  bring, 
With  all  the  incenfe  of  the  breathing  fpring : 

1  Ifaiah,  cap.  inf.r.       J  Cap,  4f.  f.  8..       3  Cap.  z?:f\  4..      4  Gap.  p.  y.> 


37 


38  PASTORALS. 

See  lofty  s  Lebanon  his  head  advance, 
See  nodding  forefts  on  the  mountains  dance, 
See  fpicy  clouds  from  lowly  Saron  rife, 
And  Camel's  flow'ry  top  perfumes  the  skies ! 
Hark !  a  glad  voice  the  lonely  defart  chears ; 
Prepare  the  6  way  !  a  God,  a  God  appears ; 
A  God,  a  God !  the  vocal  hills  reply, 
The  rocks  proclaim  th'  approaching  Deity. 
Lo  Earth  receives  him  from  the  bending  skies  1 
Sink  down  ye  mountains,  and  ye  vallies  rife  : 
With  heads  declin'd,  ye  Cedars,  homage  pay ; 
Be  fmooth  ye  rocks,  ye  rapid  floods  give  way ! 
The  Saviour  comes !  by  ancient  bards  foretold  ; 
Hear  7  him  ye  deaf,  and  all  ye  blind  behold ! 
He  from  thick  Alms  fhall  purge  the  vifual  ray, 
And  on  the  fightlefs  eye-ball  pour  the  day : 
*Tis  he  th5  obftruited  paths  of  found  fhall  clear, 
And  bid  new  mufic  charm  th'  unfolding  ear. 

*  Cap.  3 j- .  f.  z.        6  Cap.  40.  %  3,  4.        7  Cap.  41.  f.  18.  Cap.  3f .  f.  y,6. 

+  The 


PASTORALS 

The  dumb  fliall  fing,  the  lame  his  crutch  forego, 
And  leap  exulting  like  the  bounding  Roe. 
No  figh,  no  murmur  the  wide  world  fliall  hear, 
From  ev'ry  face  he  wipes  off  ev'ry  tear. 
In  8  adamantine  chains  fliall  Death  be  bound, 
And  Hell's  grim  Tyrant  feel  th'  eternal  woundi 
As  the  good  9  ftiepherd  tends  his  fleecy  care, 
Seeks  frefheft  pafture  and  the  pureft  air, 
Explores  the  loft,  the  wandring  flieep  dire6ts, 
By  day  o'erfees  them,  and  by  night  prote6ts; 
The  tender  lambs  he  raifes  in  his  arms, 
Feeds  from  his  hand,  and  in  his  bofom  warms; 
Thus  fliall  mankind  his  guardian  care  engage, 
The  promis'd  IO  father  of  the  future  age. 
No  more  fliall  "  nation  againft  nation  rife, 
Nor  ardent  warriors  meet  with  hateful  eyes, 
Nor  fields  with  gleaming  fteel  be  cover'd  o'er, 
The  brazen  trumpets  kindle  rage  no  more  \ 

'  Cap.  if.  f.  8.         '  Cap.  40.  f.  11.  -Cap.  9.  t.6.         "Cap.  z.  #.4. 

But 


39 


4o 


PASTORALS. 

But  ufelefs  lances  into  fcythes  fhall  bend, 
And  the  broad  faulchion  in  a  plow-fhare  end. 
Then  palaces  fhall  rife  ;    the  joyful  I2  Son 
Shall  finifh  what  his  fhort-liv'd  Sire  begun ; 
Their  vines  a  fbadow  to  their  race  fhall  yield, 
And  the  fame  hand  that  fow'd  ihall  reap  the  field. 
The  fwain  in  barren  I3  defarts  with  furprize 
See  Lillies  fpring,  and  fudden  verdure  rife, 
And  ftarts,  amidft  the  thirfty  wilds  to  hear 
New  falls  of  water  murm'ring  in  his  ear : 
On  rifted  rocks,  the  dragon's  late  abodes, 
The  green  reed  trembles,  and  the  bulrufh  nods. 
Wafte  fandy  I4  vallies,  once  perplex'd  with  thorn, 
The  fpiry  firr  and  ihapely  box  adorn ; 
To  leaflefs  ihrubs  the  flow 'ring  palms  fucceed, 
And  od'rous  myrtle  to  the  noifome  weed. 
The IS  lambs  with  wolves  fliall  graze  the  verdant  mead, 
And  boys  in  flow'ry  bands  the  Tyger  lead  ; 

f" 3CaP'  6T«  Cap'i T. >. 6,7,  8"P'  iT :  *'  h  7'         '4  Cap- 4I-  f' IP-  ^  Ca?-  ff ' 

4  The 


PASTORALS.  41 

The  fteer  and  lion  at  one  crib  ftiall  meet, 
And  harmlefs  l6  ferpents  lick  the  pilgrim's  feet. 
The  fmiling  infant  in  his  hand  ftiall  take 
The  crefted  Bafilisk  and  fpeckled  fnake ; 
Pleas'd  the  green  luftre  of  the  fcales  furvey, 
AndwiththeirforkytongueandpointlefsfKngfhallplay. 
Rife,  crown'd  with  light,  imperial  I7 Salem  rife! 
Exalt  thy  tow'ry  head,  and  lift  thy  eyes ! 
See,  a  long  l8  race  thy  fpacious  courts  adorn ; 
See  future  fons,  and  daughters  yet  unborn, 
In  crouding  ranks  on  ev'ry  fide  arife, 
Demanding  life,  impatient  for  the  skies ! 
See  barb'rous  I9  nations  at  thy  gates  attend, 
Walk  in  thy  light,  and  in  thy  Temple  bend ; 
See  thy  bright  altars  throng'd  with  proftrate  Kings, 
And  heap'd  with  products  of 10  Sabtecm  fprings! 
For  thee  Idume's  fpicy  forefts  blow, 
And  feeds  of  gold  in  Ophjr's  mountains  glow. 


16  Cap.  <5f.  f.  if.         '7  Cap.  60.  f.i.         ,8  Can.  (Jo.  #.4.         »»  Cap.  6a,  fr.J. 
i0Cap.<5o.  $.6. 

G  Sx 


42 


PASTORALS. 

See  heav'n  its  fparkling  portals  wide  difplay, 

And  break  upon  thee  in  a  flood  of  day ! 

No  more  the  rifing  2I  Sun  ihall  gild  the  morn, 

Nor  ev'ning  Cynthia  fill  her  filver  horn, 

But  loft,  diflblv'd  in  thy  fuperior  rays, 

One  Tyde  of  glory,  one  unclouded  bla^e 

O'erflow  thy  courts :  The  Light  himfelf  Ihall  ihine 

Reveal'd,  and  God's  eternal  day  be  thine ! 

The  22  feas  Ihall  wafte,  the  skies  in  fmoke  decay, 

Rocks  fall  to  duft,  and  mountains  melt  away  ; 

But  fix'd  his  word,  his  faving  pow'r  remains; 

Thy  Realm  for  ever  lafts,  thy  own  Mejfiah  reigns! 


MCap.tfo..#.  ip,ia  "Cap.j-i.  t-tf.  «»^ Cap. 5-4.  f.io. 

ADVER- 


43 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


IN  reading  feveral  paffages  of  the  Prophet  Ifa'iah,  which 
foretell  the  coming  of  Chrift  and  the  felicities  attend- 
ing it,  I  could  not  but  obferve  a  remarkable  parity  be- 
tween many  of  the  thoughts,  and  thofe  in  the  Pollw  of 
Virgil.  This  will  not  feem  furprizing  when  we  reflect,  that  the 
Eclogue  was  taken  from  a  Sybill'me  prophecy  on  the  fame 
fubjed:.  One  may  judge  that  Virgil  did  not  copy  it  line  by 
line,  but  (elected  fuch  Ideas  as  beft  agreed  with  the  nature  of 
pafloral  poetry,  and  difpofed  them  in  that  manner  which 
ferv'd  moil  to  beautify  his  piece.  I  have  endeavour'd  the 
fame  in  this  imitation  of  him,  tho'  without  admitting  any 
thing  of  my  own;  fince  it  was  written  with  this  particular 
view,  that  the  reader  by  comparing  the  feveral  thoughts 
might  fee  how  far  the  images  and  defcriptions  of  the  Prophet 
are  fuperior  to  thofe  of  the  Poet.  But  as  I  fear  I  have  pre- 
judiced them  by  my  management,  I  (hall  fubjoin  the  paffa- 
ges  of  Ifaiah,  and  thofe  of  Virgil,  under  the  fame  difadvan- 
tage  of  a  literal  tranflation. 

A  Virgin  jlo  all  conceive— All  crime  s  Jli  all  ceafe,  &c. 

Virg.  E.  4.  "$".  6.  Jam  redit  &  Virgo,  redeunt  Saturnia  regna, 

Jam  nova  progenies  cado  demittitur  alto 

Te  duce,  fi  qua  manent  fceleris  veitigia  noftri, 

G   z  Irrita 


44  PASTORALS. 

Irrita  perpetua  folvent  formidine  terras 

Pacatumcpe  reget  patriis  virtutibus  orbem. 

Now  the  Virgin  returns,  now  the  kingdom  0/*  Saturn  returns, 
now  a  new  Progeny  is  fent  down  from  high  heaven.  By  means 
of  thee,  whatever  reliques  of  our  crimes  remain,  /ball  be  wip'd 
away,  and  free  the  world  from  perpetual  fears.  He  Jhall 
govern  the  earth  in  peace,  with  the  virtues  of  his  Father. 

Isaiah,  Ch.  7.  "$".  14.  Behold  a  Virgin  Jhall  conceive,  and 
bear  a  Son— Ch.  9.  "#".  6,  7.  Unto  us  a  Child  is  born,  unto  us  a 
Son  is  given  -,  The  Prince  of  Peace :  of  the  increafe  of  his  go- 
vernment,  and  of  his  Peace,  there  [hall  be  no  end :  Upon  the 
Throne  of  David,  and  upon  his  Kingdom,  to  order  and  to  fla- 
blijh  it,  with  judgment,  and  with  jujlice,  for  ever  and  ever* 

See  Nature  haftes,  &c. 

Virg.  E.  4.  T^.  18.  At  tibi  prima,  puer,  nullo  munufcula  cultu,. 
Errantes  hedaeras  pauim  cum  baccare  tellus, 

Mixtaque  ridenti  colocafia  fundet  acantho 

Ipfa  tibi  blandos  fundent  cunabula  flores. 

For  thee,  0  Child,  Jhall  the  earth,  without  being  tilled,  pro- 
duce early  offerings  $  winding  Ivy,  with  Baccar,  and  Colocafia 
mixed  with  finding  Acanthus.  Thy  Cradle  Jhall  pour  forth 
pleafing  flowers  about  thee. 

Isaiah,  Ch.  35.  ~Sf.  1.  The  wildernefs  and  the  fohtary  flace 

Jhall  be  glad,  and  the  defert  Jhall  rejoice  and  blojfom  as  the  rofe.. 

Ch.  60.  ~Sf.  13.  The  gloiy  of  Lebanon  Jhall  come  unto  thee, 

the  Jirr-tree,  the  pine-tree,,  and  the  box  together,  to  beautify 

the  place  of  thy  Sancluary. 

Hark!,  a  glad  Voice,  &c. 

ViR.E^.^^^.AggredereomagnoSjaderitjamtempuSjhonores, 
Cara  deum  ibboles,  magnum  Jovis  incrementum — 

4-  Ijffi 


PASTORALS.  45 

Ipfi  laetitia  voces  ad  fydera  jactant 

Intonfi  montes,  ipfas  jam  carmina  rupes, 

Ipfa  fonant  arbufta,  Deus,  deus  ille  Menalca f   E.  y .  "5f".  6za 

Oh  come  and  receive  the  mighty  honours:  The  time  draws 
nigh,  0  beloved  offspring  of  the  Gods,  0  great  encreafe  of  Jove ! 
The  uncultivated  mountains  fend  fhouts  of  joy  to  the  fiars,  the 
very  rocks  Jing  in  verfe,  the  very  fhrubs  cry  out,  A  God,  a  God! 

Isaiah,  Ch.  40.  ~Sf.  3,  4.  The  voice  of  him  that  crieth  in  the 
wildernefs,  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord!  make  fir  ait  in  the 
defert  a  high  way  for  our  God  /  Every  valley  fhall  be  exalted, 
and  every  mountain  and  hill  fhall  be  made  low,  and  the  crook- 
ed fhall  be  made  flrait,  and  the  rough  places  plain.  Ch.  4. 
"$".23.  rBreak  forth  into  fingwg,  ye  mountains  !  0  forefi,  and 
every  tree  therein  /  for  the  Lord  hath  redeemed  Ifrael. 

The  Swain  in  barren  deferts,  &c. 

Virg.  E.  4.  ^f.  28.  Molli  paulatim  flavefcet  campus  arifla, 
Incultifque  rubens  pendebit  ientibus  uva. 
Et  dura?  quercus  fudabunt  roicida  mella. 

The  field  fhall  grow  yellow  with  ripen' d  ears,  and  the  red 
grape  fhall  hang  upon  the  wild  brambles,  and  the  hard  Oaks 
fhall  difiill  honey  like  dew. 

Isaiah,  Ch.  35.  "#".  7.  The  parched  ground  fhall  become  a 
pool,  and  the  thirfly  land  fprings  of  water :  In  the  habitati- 
ons where  dragons  lay,  fhall  be  grafs,  and  reeds  and  rufhes, 
Ch.  5  5 .  ~Sr.  1 3 .  Inflead  of  the  thorn  fhall  come  up  the  firr-tree^ 
and  inflead  of  the  briar  fhall  come  up  the  myrtle-tree* 

The  lambs  with  wolves,  &c. 

Vi  R  g.  E.  4.  *#".  2 1 .  Ipfae  ladle  domum  referent  diftenta  capell^e. 
Ubera,  nee  magnos  metuent  armenta  leones 

Occidet 


PASTORALS. 

Occidet  &  Terpens,  &  fallax  herba  veneni 

Occidet. 

The  goats  fhall  bear  to  the  fold  their  udders  diflended  with 
milk :  nor  fhall  the  herds  be  afraid  of  the  greatefl  lions.  The 
ftrpent  floall  die,  and  the  herb  that  conceals  poifon  fhall  die. 

Isaiah,  Ch.  n.  Sf.  16,  &c.  The  wolf  fhall  dwell  with  the 
lamb,  and  the  leopard  fhall  lie  down  with  the  kid,  and  the  calf 
and  the  young  lion  and  the  fat  ling  together  -,  and  a  little  child 
fhall  lead  them — And  the  lien  fhall  eat  ftraw  like  the  ox.  And 
the  fucking  child  fhall  play  on  the  hole  of  the  afp^  and  the 
.weaned  child  fhall  put  his  hand  on  the  den  of  the  cockatrice. 

Rife  crown  d  with  light,  &c. 

The  thoughts  that  follow  to  the  end  of  the  Poem,  are 
wonderfully  elevated,  and  much  above  thofe  general  excla- 
mations of  Virgil  which  make  the  loftieft  parts  of  his  Pollio. 

Magnus  ab  integro  feclorum  nafcitur  ordo  ! 

toto  furget  gens  aurea  mundo  i 

incipient  magni  procedere  menfes  / 

Afpice,  venturo  latentur  ut  omnia  fieclo  I  &c. 

The  reader  needs  only  turn  to  the  paffages  of  Ifaiah,  as 
they  are  cited  in  the  margins  of  the  preceding  Eclogue. 


WINDSOR- 


#^3iF«?«*B?3a&3B£*©@a88 


WINDSOR-FOREST. 


To  the  Right  Honourable 


GEORGE  Lord  LANS  DOWN. 


Non  injujfa  cano :  Te  noftrte  Vare  myrica 

Te  Nemus  omne  canet;  nee  Vhceho  gratior  ulla  ejfc 

§^am  Jibi  qua  Vari  prafcripfit  pagina  nomen. 

VIRG, 


BfiES^i&ES^SoS^^SoS^^^ES^^^eS^^isFeS^^^^^^tfgtSa 


J.aribcJ/n  in.tt/culp. 


WINDSOR-FOREST. 


To  the  Right  Honourable 


GEORGE  Lord  LANS  DOWN. 


HY  forefts,  Windforl  and  thy  green 

retreats, 
At  once  the  Monarch's  and   the 
Mufe's  feats, 
Invite  my  lays.     Be  prefent  fylvan  Maids ! 
Unlock  your  fprings,  and  open  all  your  fliades. 
Granville  commands ;  your  aid  O  Mufes  bring ! 
What  Mufe  for  Granville  can  refufe  to  ling  ? 

H  The 


5o  WIN D  S  O  R-FO  REST. 

The  groves  of  Eden,  vanifh'd  now  fo  long, 
Live  in  defcription,  and  look  green  in  fong : 
Thefe,  were  my  breaft  infpir'd  with  equal  flame, 
Like  them  in  beauty,  fliould  be  like  in  fame. 
Here  hills  and  vales,  the  woodland  and  the  plain, 
Here  earth  and  water  feem  to  ft  rive  again, 
Not  Chaos-like  together  crufli'd  and  bruis'd, 
But  as  the  world,  harmonioufly  confus'd : 
Where  order  in  variety  we  fee, 
And  where,  tho'  all  things  differ,  all  agree. 
Here  waving  groves  a  checquer'd  fcene  difplay, 
And  part  admit,  and  part  exclude  the  day ; 
As  fome  coy  nymph  her  lover's  warm  addrefs 
Nor  quite  indulges,  nor  can  quite  reprefs. 
There,  interfpers'd  in  lawns  and  opening  glades, 
Thin  trees  arife  that  fhun  each  others  fhades. 
Here  in  full  light  the  rufTet  plains  extend  ; 
There  wrapt  in  clouds  the  blueifli  hills  afcend  : 
Ev'n  the  wild  heath  difplays  her  purple  dyes, 
And  'midft  the  defert  fruitful  fields  arife, 

3  That 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  51 

That  crown'd  with  tufted  trees  and  fpringing  corn, 
Like  verdant  ifles  the  fable  wafte  adorn. 
Let  India  boaft  her  plants,  nor  envy  we 
The  weeping  amber  or  the  balmy  tree, 
While  by  our  Oaks  the  precious  loads  are  born, 
And  realms  commanded  which  thofe  trees  adorn. 
Not  proud  Olympus  yields  a  nobler  fight, 
Tho'  Gods  affembled  grace  his  tow'ring  height, 
Than  what  more  humble  mountains  offer  here, 
Where,  in  their  bleflings,  all  thofe  Gods  appear. 
See  Pan  with  flocks,  with  fruits  Pomona  crown'd, 
Here  blufhing  Flora  paints  th'  enamel'd  ground, 
Here  Ceres'  gifts  in  waving  profpeit  ftand, 
And  nodding  tempt  the  joyful  reaper's  hand, 
Rich  Induftry  fits  fmiling  on  the  plains, 
And  Peace  and  Plenty  tell,  a  Stuart  reigns. 

Not  thus  the  Land  appear'd*in  ages  paft, 
A  dreary  defert  and  a  gloomy  wafte, 

H  2  To 


52  WINDSOR  FOREST 

To  favage  beafts  and  *  favage  laws  a  prey, 
And  Kings  more  furious  and  fevere  than  they  ; 
Who  claim'd  the  skies,  difpeopled  air  and  floods* 
The  lonely  Lords  of  empty  wilds  and  woods. 
Cities  laid  wafte,  they  ftorm'd  the  dens  and  caves* 
(For  wifer  Brutes  were  backward  to  be  flaves.) 
What  could  be  free,  when  lawlefs  beafts  obey'd, 
And  ev'n  the  Elements  a  Tyrant  fway'd  ? 
In  vain  kind  feafons  fwell'd  the  teeming  grain, 
Soft  fhow'rs  diftill'd,  and  Suns  grew  warm  in  vain  ; 
The  fwain  with  tears  to  beafts  his  labour  yields, 
And  famifh'd  dies  amidft  his  ripen'd  fields. 
No  wonder  favages  or  fubje6ts  flain 
Were  equal  crimes  in  a  defpotic  i*eign, 
Both  doom'd  alike  for  fportive  Tyrants  bled, 
But  fubje&s  ftarv'd  while  favages  were  fed. 
Proud  Nimrod  firft  the  bloody  chace  began, 
A  mighty  hunter,  and  his  prey  was  Man. 


'The  for  eft  Laws. 

Our 


WIND  S  O  R-FO  REST.  53 

Our  haughty  Norman  boafts  that  barb'rous  name, 
And  makes  his  trembling  flaves  the  royal  game. 
The  #  fields  are  ravifh'd  from  th'  induftrious  fwains, 
From  Men  their  cities,  and  from  Gods  their  fanes : 
The  levell'd  towns  with  weeds  lie  cover'd  o'er ; 
The  hollow  winds  thro'  naked  Temples  roar ; 
Round  broken  columns  clafping  Ivy  twin'd  ; 
O'er  heaps  of  ruin  ftalk'd  the  ftately  hind ; 
The  fox  obfcene  to  gaping  tombs  retires, 
And  wolves  with  howling  fill  the  facred  Quires. 
Aw'd  by  his  Nobles,  by  his  Commons  curft, 
Th'  opprefTor  rul'd  tyrannic  where  he  durft, 
Stretch'd  o'er  the  Poor,  and  Church,  his  iron  rod, 
And  treats  alike  his  VafTals  and  his  God} 
Whom  ev'n  the  Saxon  fpar'd,  and  bloody  Dane, 
The  wanton  vi6Hms  of  his  Sport  remain. 
But  fee  the  man  who  fpacious  regions  gave 
A  Wafte  for  beafts,  himfelf  deny'd  a  grave ! 

*  Alluding  to  the  new  foreft,  and  the  tyrannies  exercised  there  hy  William  the  fir  ft. 

Stretch'd 


54.  TFINDSOR-FOREST. 

Stretch'd  on  the  lawn  his  *  fecond  hope  furvey, 
At  once  the  chafer  and  at  once  the  prey. 
Lo  Rufus,  tugging  at  the  deadly  dart, 
Bleeds  in  the  foreft,  like  a  wounded  hart. 
Succeeding  Monarchs  heard  the  fubje6ts-  cries, 
Nor  faw  difpleas'd  the  peaceful  cottage  rife. 
Then  gathering  flocks  on  unknown  mountains  fed, 
O'er  fandy  wilds  were  yellow  harvefts  fpread, 
The  forefts  wonder 'd  at  th'  unufual  grain, 
And  fecret  tranfport  touch 'd  the  confcious  Swain. 
Fair  Liberty,  Britannia's  Goddefs,  rears 
Her  chearful  head,  and  leads  the  golden  years. 

Yevig'ronsSwains!  while  youthferments  your  blood, 
And  purer  fpirits  fwell  the  fprightly  flood, 
Now  range  the  hills,  the  thickeft  woods  befet, 
Wind  the  lhrill  horn,  or  fpread  the  waving  net. 
When  milder  autumn  fummer's  heat  fucceeds, 
And  in  the  new-fliorn  field  the  Partridge  feeds, 

*  Richard,  fecond  J  on  of  William  the  Conqutror. 

Before 


WINDSOR-FOREST  55 

Before  his  Lord  the  ready  Spaniel  bounds, 
Panting  with  hope,  he  tries  the  furrow'd  grounds, 
But  when  the  tainted  gales  the  game  betray, 
Couch'd  clofe  he  lies,  and  meditates  the  prey ; 
Secure  they  truft  th'  unfaithful  field,  befet, 
Till  hov'ring  o'er  'em  fwecps  the  fwelling  net. 
Thus  (if  fmall  things  we  may  with  great  compare) 
When  Albion  fends  her  eager  fons  to  war, 
Pleas'd,  in  the  Gen'ral's  fight,  the  holt  lie  down 
Sudden,  before  fome  unfufpedling  town, 
The  captive  Race,  one  inftant  makes  our  prize, 
And  high  in  air  Britannia's  ftandard  flies. 

See !  from  the  brake  the  whirring  Pheafant  fprings, 
And  mounts  exulting  on  triumphant  wings. 
Short  is  his  joy;  he  feels  the  fiery  wound, 
Flutters  in  blood,  and  panting  beats  the  ground. 
Ah !  what  avail  his  glofly,  varying  dyes, 
His  purple  creft,  and  fcarlet-circled  eyes, 
The  vivid  green  his  ftiining  plumes  unfold, 
His  painted  wings,  and  breaft  that  flames  with  gold  ? 

Nor 


$6  WINDSOR-FOREST. 

Nor  yet,  when  moift  AyRuyus  clouds  the  sky, 
The  woods  and  fields  their  pleafing  toils  deny. 
To  plains  with  well-breath'd  beagles  we  repair, 
And  trace  the  mazes  of  the  circling  hare. 
(Beafts,  taught  by  us,  their  fellow  beafts  purfue, 
And  learn  of  man  each  other  to  undo.) 
With  flaught'ring  guns  th'  unweary'd  fowler  roves, 
When  frofts  have  whiten'd  all  the  naked  groves ; 
Where  doves  in  flocks  the  leaflefs  trees  o'erlhade, 
And  lonely  woodcocks  haunt  the  wat'ry  glade. 
He  lifts  the  tube,  and  levels  with  his  eye ; 
Strait  a  Ihort  thunder  breaks  the  frozen  sky. 
Oft',  as  in  airy  rings  they  skim  the  heath, 
The  clam'rous  Plovers  feel  the  leaden  death  : 
Oft',  as  the  mounting  Larks  their  notes  prepare, 
They  fall,  and  leave  their  little  lives  in  air. 

In  genial  Spring,  beneath  the  quiv'ring  fliade, 
Where  cooling  vapours  breathe  along  the  mead, 
The  patient  fifher  takes  his  filent  ftand, 
Intent,  his  angle  trembling  in  his  hand ; 

With 


W'INDS  O  R-FOREST.  57 

With  looks  unmov'd,  he  hopes  the  fcaly  breed, 
And  eyes  the  dancing  cork,  and  bending  reed. 
Our  plenteous  ftreams  a  various  race  fupply ; 
The  bright-ey'd  perch  with  fins  of  Tyrian  die, 
The  filver  eel,  in  fhining  volumes  rolFd, 
The  yellow  carp,  in  fcales  bedrop'd  with  gold, 
Swift  trouts,  diverfify'd  with  crimfon  ftains, 
And  pykes,  the  tyrants  of  the  watry  plains. 

Now  Cancer  glows  with  Vhoshus"  fiery  car  \ 
The  youth  rufli  eager  to  the  fylvan  war; 
Swarm  o'er  the  lawns,  the  foreft  walks  furround, 
Rowze  the  fleet  hart,  and  chear  the  opening  hound. 
Th'  impatient  courfer  pants  in  ev'ry  vein, 
And  pawing,  feems  to  beat  the  diftant  plain, 
Hills,  vales,  and  floods  appear  already  crofs'd, 
And  'ere  he  ftarts,  a  thoufand  fteps  are  loft. 
See !  the  bold  youth  ftrain  up  the  threat 'ning  fteep, 
Rufh  thro'  the  thickets,  down  the  vallies  fweep, 
Hang  o'er  their  courfers  heads  with  eager  fpeed, 
And  earth  rolls  back  beneath  the  flying  fteed. 

I  Let 


58  WINDSOR-FOREST. 

Let  old  Arcadia  boaft  her  ample  plain, 
Th'  immortal  huntrefs,  and  her  virgin-train, 
Nor  envy,  Windjor !  fince  thy  fhades  have  feen 
As  bright  a  Goddefs,  and  as  chafte  a  Queen ; 
Whofe  care,  like  hers,  prote&s  the  fylvan  reign, 
The  earth's  fair  light,  and  Emprefs  of  the  main. 

Here,  as  old  Bards  have  fung,  Diana  ftray'd, 
Bath'd  in  the  fprings,  or  fought  the  cooling  fhade ; 
Here  arm'd  with  filver  bows,  in  early  dawn, 
Her  buskin'd  Virgins  trac'd  the  dewy  lawn. 
Above  the  reft  a  rural  nymph  was  fam'd, 
Thy  offspring,  Thames !  the  fair  Lodona  nam'd, 
(Lodona's  fate,  in  long  oblivion  caft, 
The  Mufe  ihall  fing,  and  what  ihe  fings  fhall  laft) 
Scarce  could  the  Goddefs  from  her  nymph  be  known, 
But  by  the  crefcent  and  the  golden  zone: 
She  fcorn'd  the  praife  of  beauty,  and  the  care ; 
A  belt  her  wafte,  a  fillet  binds  her  hair, 
A  painted  quiver  on  her  fhoulder  founds, 
And  with  her  dart  the  flying  deer  Ihe  wounds. 

It 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  ?$ 

It  chanc'd,  as  eager  of  the  chace  the  maid 
Beyond  the  foreft's  verdant  limits  ftray'd, 
Pan  faw  and  lov'd,  and  burning  with  defire 
Purfu'd  her  flight,  her  flight  increased  his  fire. 
Not  half  fo  fwift  the  trembling  Doves  can  fly, 
When  the  fierce  Eagle  cleaves  the  liquid  sky ; 
Not  half  fo  fwiftly  the  fierce  Eagle  moves, 
When  thro5  the  clouds  he  drives  the  trembling  Doves; 
As  from  the  God  lhe  flew  with  furious  pace, 
Or  as  the  God,  more  furious,  urg'd  the  chace. 
Now  fainting,  finking,  pale,  the  nymph  appears; 
Now  clofe  behind  his  founding  fteps  lhe  hears ; 
And  now  his  lhadow  reach'd  her  as  lhe  run, 
(His  lhadow  lengthen'd  by  the  fetting  Sun} 
And  now  his  fhorter  breath,  with  fultry  air, 
Pants  on  her  neck,  and  fans  her  parting  hair. 
In  vain  on  father  Thames  lhe  calls  for  aid, 
Nor  could  Diana  help  her  injur 'd  maid. 
Faint,  breathlefs,  thus  flie  pray'd,  nor  pray'd  in  vain; 
"  Ah  Cynthia !  ah — tho'  banifh'd  from  thy  train, 

I  2  «  Let 


6°  WINDSOR  FOREST. 

"  Let  me,  O  let  me,  to  the  fliades  repair, 
*  My  native  fliades— there  weep,  and  murmur  there. 
She  faid,  and  melting  as  in  tears  fhe  lay, 
In  a  foft,  filver  ftream  diflblv'd  away. 
The  filver  ftream  her  virgin  coldnefs  keeps, 
For  ever  murmurs,  and  for  ever  weeps ;    ° 
Still  bears  the  *  name  the  haplefs  virgin  bore, 
And  bathes  the  foreft  where  flie  rang'd  before. 
In  her  chafte  current  oft'  the  Goddefs  laves, 
And  with  celeftial  tears  augments  the  waves. 
Oft'  in  her  glafs  the  muling  lhepherd  fpies 
The  headlong  mountains  and  the  downward  skies, 
The  watry  Landskip  of  the  pendant  woods, 
And  abfent  trees  that  tremble  in  the  floods ; 
In  the  clear  azure  gleam  the  flocks  are  feen, 
And  floating  forefts  paint  the  waves  with  green. 
Thro'  the  fair  fcene  rowl  flow  the  ling'ring  ftreams? 
Then  foaming  pour  along,  and  rufli  into  the  Thames. 

*  Tie  River  Loddon. 

Thou 


WIND  SOR-FOREST.  a 

Thou  too,  great  father  of  the  Britijh  floods ! 
With  joyful  pride  furvey  our  lofty  woods ; 
Where  tow 'ring  Oaks  their  fpreading  honours  rear, 
And  future  Navies  on  thy  banks  appear. 
Not  Neptune's  felf  from  all  his  floods  receives 
A  wealthier  tribute,  than  to  thine  he  gives. 
No  feas  fo  rich,  fo  full  no  ftreams  appear, 
No  lake  fo  gentle,  and  no  fpring  fo  clear. 
Not  fabled  Po  more  fwells  the  Poet's  lays, 
While  thro'  the  skies  his  fhining  current  ftrays, 
Than  thine,  which  vifits  Wmdfofs  fam'd  abodes, 
To  grace  the  manfion  of  our  earthly  Gods : 
Nor  all  his  ftars  a  brighter  luftre  fhow, 
Than  the  fair  nymphs  that  gild  thy  fhore  below : 
Here  'Jove  himfelf,  fubdu'd  by  beauty  ftill, 
Might  change  Olympus  for  a  nobler  hill. 

Happy  the  man  whom  this  bright  Court  approves, 
His  Sov'reign  favours,  and  his  Country  loves ; 
Happy  next  him  who  to  thefe  lhades  retires, 
Whom  Nature  charms,  and  whom  the  Mufe  infpires, 

Whom 


WINDSOR  FOREST 

Whom  humbler  joys  of  home-felt  quiet  pleafe, 
Succeffive  ftudy,  exercife,  and  eafe. 
He  gathers  health  from  herbs  the  foreft  yields, 
And  of  their  fragrant  phyfick  fpoils  the  fields : 
With  chymic  art  exalts  the  min'ral  pow'rs, 
And  draws  the  aromatic  fouls  of  flow'rs. 
Now  marks  the  courfe  of  rolling  orbs  on  high ; 
O'er  figur'd  worlds  now  travels  with  his  eye. 
Of  ancient  writ  unlocks  the  learned  (lore, 
Confults  the  dead,  and  lives  paft  ages  o'er. 
Or  wand'ring  thoughtful  in  the  lilent  wood, 
Attends  the  duties  of  the  wife  and  good, 
T'  obferve  a  mean,  be  to  himfelf  a  friend, 
To  follow  nature,  and  regard  his  end. 
Or  looks  on  heav'n  with  more  than  mortal  eyes, 
Bids  his  free  foul  expatiate  in  the  skies, 
Amidft  her  kindred  ftars  familiar  roam, 
Survey  the  region,  and  confefs  her  home! 
Such  was  the  life  great  Scipio  once  admir'd, 
Thus  Atticus,  and  Trumbal  thus  retir'd. 

Ye 


WINDSOR-FOREST.  63 

Ye  facred  Nine !  that  all  my  foul  poflefs, 
Whofe  raptures  fire  me,  and  whofe  vifions  blefs, 
Bear  me,  oh  bear  me  to  fequefter'd  fcenes, 
Of  bow'ry  mazes,  and  furrounding  greens ; 
To  Thames's  banks  which  fragrant  breezes  fill, 
Or  where  ye  Mufes  fport  on  Cooper's  hill. 
(On  Cooper's  hill  eternal  wreaths  fhall  grow, 
While  lafts  the  mountain,  or  while  Thames  lhall  flow) 
I  feem  thro'  confecrated  walks  to  rove, 
And  hear  foft  mufic  dye  along  the  grove  ; 
Led  by  the  found  I  roam  from  ihade  to  fhade, 
By  god-like  Poets  venerable  made : 
Here  his  firft  lays  majeftic  Denham  fung ; 
There  the  laft  numbers  flow'd  from  *  Cowley's  tongue. 
O  early  loft !  what  tears  the  River  fhed, 
When  the  fad  pomp  along  his  banks  was  led? 
His  drooping  fwans  on  ev'ry  note  expire, 
And  on  his  willows  hung  each  Mufe's  lyre. 


#  Mr  Cowley  died  at  Chertfey  on  the  borders  of  the  Fore ft r,  and  was  from  thence 
conveyed  to  Weilminftcr. 


Since 


6+  WINDSOR  FOREST. 

Since  fate  relentlefs  ftop'd  their  heav'nly  voice, 
No  more  the  forefts  ring,  or  groves  rejoice ; 
Who  now  fhall  charm  the  fliades,  where  Cowley  {\.xung 
His  living  harp,  and  lofty  Denham  fung  ? 
But  hark !  the  groves  rejoice,  the  foreft  rings ! 
Are  thefe  reviv'd  ?  or  is  it  Granville  fings  ? 

^Tis  yours,  my  Lord,  to  blefs  our  foft  retreats, 
And  call  the  Mufes  to  their  ancient  feats, 
To  paint  anew  the  flow'ry  fylvan  fcenes, 
To  crown  the  forefts  with  immortal  greens, 
Make  JVindfor-Yiilh  in  lofty  numbers  rife, 
And  lift  her  turrets  nearer  to  the  skies; 
To  fing  thofe  honours  you  deferve  to  wear, 
And  add  new  luftre  to  her  filver  Star. 

Here  noble  *  Surrey  felt  the  facred  rage, 
Surrey,  the  Granville  of  a  former  age  : 
Matchlefs  his  pen,  victorious  was  his  lance ; 
Bold  in  the  lifts,  and  graceful  in  the  dance  : 


*  Henry  Howard  E.  of  Surrey,  one  of  the  fir  ft  refiners  of  the  Englifli  Poetry,  who 
flouriflfd  in  the  time  of  Henry  the  VIIIth. 

In 


WINDSOR-FOREST.  *5 

In  the  fame  lhades  the  Cupids  tun'd  his  lyre, 
To  the  fame  notes,  of  love,  and  foft  defire : 
Fair  Geraldine,  bright  object  of  his  vow, 
Then  filFd  the  groves,  as  heav'nly  Myra  now. 

Oh  would'ft  thou  fing  what  Heroes  Windjor  bore, 
What  Kings  firft  breath'd  upon  her  winding  ihore, 
Or  raife  old  Warriors  whofe  ador'd  remains 
In  weeping  vaults  her  hallow'd  earth  contains ! 
With.**  Edward's  a6ts  adorn  the  fhining  page, 
Stretch  his  long  triumphs  dovfrn  thro*  ev'ry  age, 
Draw  Monarchs  chained,  and  CreJJFs  glorious  field, 
The  Lillies  blazing  on  the  regal  fhield. 
Then,  from  her  Roofs  when  Verri<?§  colours  fall, 
And  leave  inanimate  the  naked  wall ; 
Still  in  thy  fong  ihould  vanquifh'd  France  appear, 
And  bleed  for  ever  under  Britain^  fpear. 

Let  fofter  (trains  ill-fated  t  Henry  mourn, 
And  Palms  eternal  flourifh  round  his  urn, 

*  Edward  III.  horn  here.  +  Henry  VI. 

K  Here 


66  WINDS  ORE  ORE  ST 

Here  o'er  the  martyr-King  the  marble  weeps, 
And  faft  befide  him,  once-fear'd  *  Edward  fleeps  : 
Whom  not  th'  extended  Albion  could  contain, 
From  old  Belerium  to  the  Northern  main, 
The  grave  unites ;  where  ev'n  the  Great  find  reft, 
And  blended  lie  th'  opprefTor  and  th'  oppreft  ! 
Make  facred  Charles's  tomb  for  ever  known, 

■ 

(Obfcure  the  place,  and  un-infcrib'd  the  ftone) 
Oh  fa6t  accurft !  what  tears  has  Albion  flied, 
Heav'ns  what  new  wounds !  and  how  her  old  have  bled  ? 
She  faw  her  fons  with  purple  deaths  expire, 
Her  facred  domes  involved  in  rolling  fire. 
A  dreadful  Series  of  inteftine  wars, 
Inglorious  triumphs,  and  dilhoneft  fears. 
At  length  great  Anna  faid — Let  difcord  ceafe ! 
She  faid,  the  World  obey'd,  and  all  was  Peace  I 

In  that  bleft  moment,  from  his  oozy  bed 
Old  father  Thames  advane'd  his  rev'rend  head. 

*  Edward  IV. 

His 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  «7 

His  treffes  dropt  with  dews,  and  o'er  the  ftream 
His  ftiining  horns  difFus'd  a  golden  gleam : 
Grav'd  on  his  urn,  appcar'd  the  Moon  that  guides 
His  fwelling  waters,  and  alternate  tydes ; 
The  figur'd  ftreams  in  waves  of  filver  roll'd, 
And  on  their  banks  Augufia  rofe  in  gold. 
Around  his  throne  the  fea-born  brothers  flood, 
That  fwell  with  tributary  urns  his  flood. 
Firft  the  fam'd  authors  of  his  ancient  name, 
The  winding  Ijis  and  the  fruitful  Tame : 
The  Kennet  fwift,  for  filver  Eels  renown'd ; 
The  Loddon  flow,  with  verdant  alders  crown'd : 
Cole,  whofe  clear  ftreams  his  flowry  iflands  lave ; 
And  chalky  ?Fry,  that  rolls  a  milky  wave : 
The  blue,  tranfparent  Vandalis  appears ; 
The  gulphy  Lee  his  fedgy  treffes  rears  : 
And  fullen  Mole,  that  hides  his  diving  flood ; 
And  filent  Darent,  ftain'd  with  Danijh  blood. 
High  in  the  midft,  upon  his  urn  reclin'd, 
(His  fea-grcen  mantle  waving  with  the  wind) 

K  2  The 


68  WINDSOR  FOREST 

The  God  appeared  ;  he  turn'd  his  afcure  eyes 
Where  Windfor-Aomzs  and  pompous  turrets  rife; 
Then  bow'd  and  fpoke ;   the  winds  forget  to  roar, 
And  the  hufli'd  waves  glide  foftly  to  the  fliore. 
Hail,  facred  Peace !  hail  long-expe&ed  days, 
That  Thames's  glory  to  the  ftars  fliall  raife ! 
Tho'  Tyher's  ftreams  immortal  Rome  behold, 
Tho'  foaming  Hermus  fwells  with  tydes  of  gold, 
From  heav'n  itfelf  tho'  fev'n-fold  Nilus  flows, 
And  harvefts  on  a  hundred  realms  beftows ; 
Thefe  now  no  more  fhall  be  the  Mufe's  themes,. 
Loft  in  my  fame,  as  in  the  fea  their  ftreams. 
Let  Volga's  banks  with  Iron  fquadrons  fliine, 
And  groves  of  Lances  glitter  on  the  Rhine, 
Let  barb'rous  Ganges  arm  a  fervile  train ; 
Be  mine  the  bleflings  of  a  peaceful  reign. 
No  more  my  fons  ihall  dye  with  Britijh  blood 
Red  Ibefs  fands,  or  IJtefs  foaming  flood  ; 
Safe  on  my  fhore  each  unmolefted  fwain 
Shall  tend  the  flocks,  or  reap  the  bearded  grain  ; 

The 


WIND  SOR-FOREST.  e9 

The  fliady  empire  fhall  retain  no  trace 
Of  war  or  blood,  but  in  the  fylvan  chace, 
The  trumpets  fleep,  while  chearful  horns  are  blown, 
And  arms  employ'd  on  birds  and  beafts  alone. 
Behold !  th'  afcending  VittcCs  on  my  fide, 
Project  long  fliadows  o'er  the  cryflal  tyde. 
Behold !  Auguftcfs  glittering  fpires  increafe, 
And  Temples  rife,  the  beauteous  works  of  Peace. 
I  fee,  I  fee  where  two  fair  Cities  bend 
Their  ample  bow,  a  new  JVhite-haH  afcend ! 
There  mighty  nations  fliall  enquire  their  doom, 
The  world's  great  Oracle  in  times  to  come ; 
There  Kings  lhall  fue,  and  fuppliant  ftates  be  feen 
Once  more  to  bend  before  a  Britijh  Queen. 

ThyTrees,fair  Windfor !  now  fliall  leave  their  woods, 
And  half  thy  forefts  rufli  into  my  floods, 
Bear  Britain's  thunder,  and  her  Crofs  difplay, 
To  the  bright  regions  of  the  rifing  day ; 
Tempt  icy  feas,  where  fcarce  the  waters  roll, 
W  here  clearer  flames  glow  round  the  frozen  Pole ; 

Or 


7 o  WINDSOR  FOREST 

Or  under  Southern  skies  exalt  their  fails, 
Led  by  new  ftars,  and  born  by  fpicy  gales ! 
For  me  the  balm  Ihall  bleed,  and  amber  flow, 
The  coral  redden,  and  the  ruby  glow, 
The  pearly  fhell  its  lucid  globe  infold, 
And  Phoebus  warm  the  ripening  ore  to  gold. 
The  time  fliall  come,  when  free  as  feas  or  wind 
Unbounded  Thames  lhall  flow  for  all  mankind, 
Whole  nations  enter  with  each  fwelling  tyde, 
And  Seas  but  join  the  regions  they  divide ; 
Earth's  diftant  ends  our  glory  lhall  behold, 
And  the  new  world  launch  forth  to  feek  the  old. 
Then  fhips  of  uncouth  form  lhall  ftem  the  tyde, 
And  feather'd  people  crowd  my  wealthy  fide, 
Whofe  naked  youth  and  painted  chiefs  admire 
Our  fpeech,  our  colour,  and  our  ftrange  attire ! 
Oh  ftretch  thy  reign,  fair  Peace!  from  fhore  to  fhore, 
Till  conqueft  ceafe,  and  flav'ry  be  no  more : 
Till  the  freed  Indians  in  their  native  groves 
Reap  their  own  fruits,  and  wooe  their  fable  Loves, 

Peru 


WINDS  OR  FOREST.  7, 

Peru  once  more  a  race  of  Kings  behold, 
And  other  Mexico's  be  roof 'd  with  gold. 
ExiFd  by  thee  from  earth  to  deepeft  hell, 
In  brazen  bonds  fliall  barb'rous  Difcord  dwell : 
Gigantic  Pride,  pale  Terror,  gloomy  Care, 
And  mad  Ambition,  fliall  attend  her  there. 
There  purple  Vengeance  bath'd  in  gore  retires, 
Her  weapons  blunted,  and  extinct  her  fires : 
There  hateful  Envy  her  own  fnakes  fliall  feel, 
And  Perfecution  mourn  her  broken  wheel : 
There  Faction  roars,  Rebellion  bites  her  chain, 
And  gafping  Furies  thirffc  for  blood  in  vain. 

Here  ceafe  thy  flight,  nor  with  unhallow'd  lays 
Touch  the  fair  fame  of  Albion's  golden  days. 
The  thoughts  of  Gods  let  Granville's  verfe  recite, 
And  bring  the  fcenes  of  opening  fate  to  light. 
My  humble  Mufe,  in  unambitious  ftrains, 
Paints  the  green  forefts  and  the  flow  ry  plains^ 
Where  Peace  defending  bids  her  olives  fpring, 
And  fcatters  blefflngs  from  her  dove-like  wing. 

3  Ev'h 


72  WINDSOR  FOREST.    ' 

Ev'n  I  more  fweetly  pafs  my  carelefs  days, 
Pleas'd  in  the  filent  fliade  with  empty  praife ; 
Enough  for  me,  that  to  the  lift'ning  fwains 
Firft  in  thefe  fields  I  fung  the  fylvan  ftrains. 


A  N 


A    N 


ESSAY 


O  N 


CRITICISM. 


Written  in  the  Year  1709. 


Si  quid  novijii  reftius  iflis, 

Candidas  imperii ;  fi  nony  his  utere  rnecwn. 

HO  RAT. 


A    N 


ESSAY 


O  N 

CRITICISM. 

IS  hard  to  fay,  if  greater  want  of 

skill 
Appear  in  writing  or  in  judging 

ill; 

But,  of  the  two,  lefs  dang'rous  is  th'  offence 

* 

To  tire  our  patience,  than  miflead  our  fenfe. 
Some  few  in  that,  but  numbers  err  in  this, 
Ten  cenfure  wrong  for  one  who  writes  amifs ; 

L  2  A  fool 


7*  ESSAT  on  CRITICISM. 

A  fool  might  once  himfelf  alone  expofe, 
Now  one  in  verfe  makes  many  more  in  profe. 

'Tis  with  our  judgments  as  our  watches,  none 
Go  juft  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own. 
In  Poets  as  true  Genius  is  but  rare, 
True  Tafte  as  feldom  is  the  Critic's  ihare ; 
Both  muft  alike  from  heav'n  derive  their  light, 
Thefe  born  to  judge,  as  well  as  thofe  to  write. 
Let  *  fuch  teach  others  who  themfelves  excels 
And  cenfure  freely  who  have  written  well. 
Authors  are  partial  to  their  wit,  'tis  true, 
Bat  are  not  Critics  to  their  judgment  too  ? 

Yet  if  we  look  more  clofely,  we  fhall  find 
Moft  i  have  the  feeds  of  judgment  in  their  mind : 
Nature  affords  at  leaft  a  glimm'ring  light ; 
The  lines,  tho'  touch'd  but  faintly,  are  drawn  right 


*  Qui  fcribit  artificiofe^  ab  aliis.  csmmode  fcripta  facile  intelligere  poterit.     Cic.  ad 
Herenn.  lib.  4. 

•f"  Omnes  tacito  quodam  fenfu^  fine  ulla  ariey  aut  ratione,   qua  fint  in  artibus  ac  ra.- 
tionibus  recla  ac  prava  dijudicant.     Cic.  de  Orat.  lib.  3. 


But 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM  77 

But  as  the  flighteft  sketch,  if  juftly  trac'd,  } 

Is  by  ill  colouring  but  the  more  difgrac'd,  > 

So  by  falfe  learning  is  good  fenfe  defac'd :  J 

Some  are  bewilder 'd  in  the  maze  of  fchools, 
And  fome  made  coxcombs  nature  meant  but  fools. 
In  fearch  of  wit  thefe  lofe  their  common  fenfe, 
And  then  turn  Critics  in  their  own  defence : 
Thofe  hate  as  rivals  all  that  write ;    and  others 
But  envy  wits>  as  eunuchs  envy  lovers. 
All  fuch  have  ftill  an  itching  to  deride. 
And  fain  would  be  upon  the  laughing  fide : 
If  Mavius  fcribble  in  Apollo's  fpight, 
There  are,  who  judge  ftill  worfe  than  he  can  write* 

Some  have  at  firft  for  Wits,  then  Poets  part, 
Turn'd  Critics  next,  and  prov'd  plain  fools  at  lafL 
Some  neither  can  for  Wits  nor  Critics  pafs, 
As  heavy  mules  are  neither  horfe  nor  afs. 
Thofe  half-learn'd  witlings,  num'rous  in  our  ifle? 
As  half-form'd  infedls  on  the  banks  of  Nile ; 

UnfinilhU 


78  ESSJT  on  CRITICISM. 

Unfinifh'd  things,  one  knows  not  what  to  call, 
Their  generation's  fo  equivocal : 
To  tell  'em,  would  a  hundred  tongues  require, 
Or  one  vain  Wit's,  that  might  a  hundred  tire. 
But  you  who  feek  to  give  and  merit  fame, 
And  juftly  bear  a  Critic's  noble  name, 
Be  fure  your  felf  and  your  own  reach  to  know, 
How  far  your  genius,  tafte,  and  learning  go ; 
Launch  not  beyond  your  depth,  but  be  difcreet, 
And  mark  that  point  where  fenfe  and  dulnefs  meet. 
Nature  to  all  things  fix'd  the  limits  fit, 
And  wifely  curb'd  proud  man's  pretending  wit. 
As  on  the  land  while  here  the  Ocean  gains, 
In  other  parts  it  leaves  wide  fandy  plains; 
Thus  in  the  foul  while  memory  prevails, 
The  folid  pow'r  of  underftanding  fails  ; 
Where  beams  of  warm  imagination  play, 
The  memory's  foft  figures  melt  away. 
One  fcience  only  will  one  genius  fit ; 
So  vaft  is  art,  fo  narrow  human  wit : 

Not 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM.  19 

Not  only  bounded  to  peculiar  arts, 

But  oft'  in  thofe  confinM  to  fingle  parts. 

Like  Kings  we  lofe  the  conquefts  gain'd  before, 

By  vain  ambition  ftill  to  make  them  more. 

Each  might  his  fev'ral  province  well  command, 

"Would  all  but  ftoop  to  what  they  underftand. 

Firft  follow  Nature,   and  your  judgment  frame 
By  her  juft  ftandard,  which  is  ftill  the  fame  i 
Unerring  Nature,   ftill  divinely  bright, 
One  clear,  unchang'd,  and  univerfal  light, 
Life,  force,  and  beauty,  muft  to  all  impart, 
At  once  the  fource,  and  end,  and  teft  of  art. 
Art  from  that  fund  each  juft  fupply  provides> 
Works  without  fhow,  and  without  pomp  prefides <z 
In  fome  fair  body  thus  the  fecret  foul 
With  fpirits  feeds,  with  vigour  fills  the  whole, 
Each  motion  guides,  and  ev'ry  nerve  fuftains ; 
Itfelf  unfeen,  but  in  th'  effe&s,  remains. 
There  are  whom  heav'n  has  bleft  with  ftore  of  wk 
Yet  want  as  much  again  to  manage  it  ^ 


8o  ESSAY  on  CRITICISM. 

For  wit  and  judgment  ever  are  at  ftrife, 
Tho'  meant  each  other's  aid,  like  man  and  wife. 
'Tis  more  to  guide,  than  fpur  the  Mufe's  fteed ; 
Reftrain  his  fury,  than  provoke  his  fpeed ; 
The  winged  courfer,  like  a  gen'rous  horfe, 
Shows  moft  true  mettle  when  you  check  his  courfe. 

Thofe  Rules  of  old  difcover'd,  not  devis'd, 
Are  nature  ftill,  but  nature  methodized : 
Nature,  like  Monarchy,  is  but  reftrain'd 
By  the  fame  laws  which  firffc  herfelf  ordain'd. 

Hear  how  learn'd  Greece  her  ufeful  rules  indites, 
When  to  reprefs,  and  when  indulge  our  flights ! 
High  on  Pamaffus'  top  her  fons  fhe  fhow'd, 
And  pointed  out  thofe  arduous  paths  they  trod, 
Held  from  afar,  aloft,  th'  immortal  prize, 
And  urg'd  the  reft  by  equal  fteps  to  rife. 
Juft  *  precepts  thus  from  great  examples  giv'n, 
She  drew  from  them  what  they  deriv'd  from  heav'n. 

*  Nee  enim  artibus  cditis  factum  eft  ut  argumenta  inveniremus,  fed  dicla  funt  omnia 
antequam  praciperentur^  mux  ea  fcriptores  objervata  &  colkcla  ediderunt.     Quintal. 

The 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM.  81 

The  gen'rous  Critic  fann'd  the  Poet's  fire, 
And  taught  the  world,  with  reafon  to  admire. 
Then  Criticifm  the  Mufe's  handmaid  prov'd, 
To  drefs  her  charms,  and  make  her  more  belov'd : 
But  following  Wits  from  that  intention  ftray'd  ;  } 
Who  could  not  win  the  miftrefs,   woo'd  the  maid?> 
Set  up  themfelves,  and  drove  a  fep'rate  trade;      ) 
Againft  the  Poets  their  own  arms  they  turn'd, 
Sure  to  hate  moft  the  men  from  whom  they  learn'd. 
So  modern  'Pothecaries,  taught  the  art 
By  Doctor's  bills  to  play  the  Doctor's  part, 
Bold  in  the  pra6Hce  of  miftaken  rules, 
Prefcribe,  apply,  and  call  their  mailers  fools, 
Some  on  the  leaves  of  ancient  authors  prey, 
Nor  time  nor  moths  e'er  fpoil'd  fo  much  as  they. 
Some  drily  plain,  without  invention's  aid, 
Write  dull  receits  how  poems  may  be  made. 
Thefe  loft  the  fenfe,  their  learning  to  difplay, 
And  thofe  explain'd  the  meaning  quite  away. 

M  4        You 


82  ESSAT  on  CRITICISM. 

Youthenwhofejudgmenttherightcourfewouldfteer, 
Know  well  each  Ancient's  proper  character ; 
His  fable,  fubjed:,  fcope  in  ev'ry  page ; 
Religion,  country,  genius  of  his  age : 
Without  all  thefe  at  once  before  your  eves. 
Cavil  you  may,  but  never  criticize. 
Be  Homer's  works  your  ftudy,  and  delight, 
Read  them  by  day,  and  meditate  by  night, 
Thence  form  your  judgment,  thence  your  notions  bring, 
And  trace  the  Mufes  upward  to  their  fpring. 
Still  with  itfelf  compar'd,  his  text  perufe ; 
And  let  your  comment  be  the  Mantuan  Mufe. 

#  When  firft  young  Metro  fung  of  Kings  and  wars, 
^Ere  warning  Phoebus  touch'd  his  trembling  ears, 
Perhaps  he  feem'd  above  the  Critic's  law, 
And  but  from  nature's  fountains  fcornd  to  draw : 
But  when  t' examine  ev'ry  part  he  came, 
Nature  and  Homer  were,  he  found,  the  fame : 


*  Virgil,  Eclog.  6.  Cum  canerem  Reges  &  Pralia^  Cynthius  aurem  Vellit 

Convinc'd, 


Mufic  refembles  Poetry,  in  each 

Are  namelefs  graces  which  no  methods  teach, 


ESSJT  on  CRITICISM  83 

Convinc'd,  ama^'d,  he  checks  the  bold  defign ;  } 
And  rules  as  ftri&  his  labour'd  work  confine,  ^ 
As  if  the  Stagyrite  o'erlook'd  each  line.  j 

Learn  hence  for  ancient  rules  a  juffc  efteem ; 
To  copy  nature  is  to  copy  them. 

Some  beauties  yet  no  precepts  can  declare, 
For  there's  a  happinefs  as  well  as  care, 

i 

And  which  a  mafter-hand  alone  can  reach.  j 

If,  #  where  the  rules  not  far  enough  extend, 
(Since  rules  were  made  but  to  promote  their  end) 
Some  lucky  Licence  anfwers  to  the  full 
Th'  intent  propos'd,  that  Licence  is  a  rule. 
Thus  PegafuSy  a  nearer  way  to  take, 
May  boldly  deviate  from  the  common  track. 
Great  Wits  fometimes  may  gloriouily  offend, 
And  rife  to  faults  true  Critics  dare  not  mend ; 


*  Ncqac  tcm  fantla  funt  if  a  Prccepta,  fed  hoc  qvicqu'ul  ef,  Utilitas  excogitavit ;  Non 
negabo  autem  f.c  utile  ejfe  plerunque  ;  verum  fi  eadem  ilia  nobis  aliud  fuadebit  utilitas, 
banc,  rcliftis  magiflrorum  autoritatibus,  fcauemur.     Quir.til.  lib.  i.  cap.  13. 

M  2  From 


I 


8+  ESSAY  on  CRITICISM. 

From  vulgar  bounds  with  brave  diforder  part. 
And  fnatch  a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art, 
Which,  without  palling  thro5  the  judgment,  gains 
The  heart,  and  all  its  end  at  once  attains. 
In  profpe&s,  thus,  fome  obje6k  pleafe  our  eyes, 
Which  out  of  nature's  common  order  rife, 
The  fhapelefs  rock,  or  hanging  precipice.  ) 

But  care  in  poetry  muft  ftill  be  had, 
It  asks  difcretion  ev'n  in  running  mad : 
And  tho'  the  Ancients  thus  their  rules  invade, 
(As  Kings  difpenfe  with  laws  themfelves  have  made) 
Moderns  beware !  or  if  you  muft  offend 
Againft  the  Precept,  ne'er  tranfgrels  its  End  ; 
Let  it  be  feldom,  and  compelPd  by  need  ; 
And  have,  at  lead,  their  precedent  to  plead. 
The  Critic  elfe  proceeds  without  remorfe, 
Seizes  your  fame,  and  puts  his  laws  in  force. 

I  know  there  are,  to  whofe  prefumptuous  thoughts 

« 

Thofe  freer  beauties,  ev'n  in  them,  feem  faults. 

Some 


ESSJT  on   CRITICISM  85 

Some  figures  monftrous  and  mif-fhap'd  appear, 
Confider'd  iingly,  or  beheld  too  near, 
Which,  but  proportioned  to  their  light,  or  place, 
Due  diftance  reconciles  to  form  and  grace. 
A  prudent  chief  not  always  muft  difplay 
His  pow'rs  in  equal  ranks,  and  fair  array, 
But  with  th'  occafion  and  the  place  comply, 
Conceal  his  force,  nay  feem  fometimes  to  fly,. 
Thofe  oft5  are  ftratagems  which  errors  feem, 
Nor  is  it  Homer  nods,  but  we  that  dream. 

Still  green  with  bays  each  ancient  altar  ftandsr 
Above  the  reach  of  facrilegious  hands ; 
Secure  from  flames,  from  envy's  fiercer  rage?: 
Deftrudlive  war,  and  all-devouring  age. 
See,  from  each  clime  the  learn 'd  their  incenfe  bring;: 
Hear,  in  all  tongues  confenting  Taans  ring ! 
In  praife  fo  juft  let  ev'ry  voice  be  join'd, 
And  fill  the  gen'ral  Chorus  of  mankind ! 
Hail,  Bards  triumphant!  born  in  happier  days; 
Immortal  heirs  of  univerfal  praife! 

WhofH 


$6  'ESSAY  on  CRITICISM. 

Whofe  honours  with  increafe  of  ages  grow, 
As  ftreams  roll  down,  enlarging  as  they  flow ! 
Nations  unborn  your  mighty  names  fhall  found, 
And  Worlds  applaud  that  muft  not  yet  be  found ! 
Oh  may  fome  fpark  of  your  celeftial  fire 
The  laft,  the  meaneft  of  your  fons  infpire, 
(That  on  weak  wings,  from  far,  purfues  your  flights; 
Glows  while  he  reads,  but  trembles  as  he  writes) 
To  teach  vain  Wits  a  fcience  little  known, 
T'  admire  fuperior  fenfe,  and  doubt  their  own ! 

Of  all  the  caufes  which  confpire  to  blind 
Man's  erring  judgment,  and  mifguide  the  mind, 
What  the  weak  head  with  ftrongeft  biafs  rules, 
Is  Pride,  the  never-failing  vice  of  fools. 
Whatever  nature  has  in  worth  deny'd, 
She  gives  in  large  recruits  of  needful  pride ; 
For  as  in  bodies,  thus  in  fouls,  we  find 
What  wants  in  blood  and  fpirits,  fwelPd  with  wind : 

Pride, 


ESSAT  on  CRITICISM  87 

Pride,  where  Wit  fails,  fteps  in  to  our  defence, 
And  fills  up  all  the  mighty  void  of  fenfe ! 
If  once  right  reafon  drives  that  cloud  away, 
Truth  breaks  upon  us  with  refiftlefs  day ; 
Truft  not  your  felf ;  but  your  defedts  to  know, 

Make  ufe  of  ev'ry  friend and  ev'ry  foe. 

A  little  Learning  is  a  dang'rous  thing ; 
Drink  deep,  or  tafte  not  the  Pierian  fpring  : 
There  fhallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain, 
And  drinking  largely  fobers  us  again. 
Fir'd  at  firft  fight  with  what  the  Mufe  imparts, 
In  fearlefs  youth  we  tempt  the  heights  of  Arts, 
While  from  the  bounded  level  of  our  mind, 
Short  views  we  take,  nor  fee  the  lengths  behind ; 
But  more  advanc'd,  behold  with  ftrange  furprize 
New  diftant  fcenes  of  endlefs  fcience  rife  ! 
So  pleas'd  at  firft  the  tow 'ring  Alps  we  try, 
Mount  o'er  the  vales,  and  feem  to  tread  the  sky, 
Th'  eternal  fnows  appear  already  paft, 
And  the  firft  clouds  and  mountains  feem  the  laft : 

But 


88  ESSAY  on  CRIYICISM. 

But  thofe  attain'd,  we  tremble  to  furvey 
The  growing  labours  of  the  lengthen'd  way, 
Th'  increafing  profpe6t  tires  our  wandring  eyes, 
Hills  peep  o'er  hills,  and  Alps  on  Alps  arife ! 

*  A  perfect  Judge  will  read  each  work  of  wit 
With  the  fame  fpirit  that  its  Author  writ, 
Survey  the  Whole,  nor  feek  flight  faults  to  find  ; 
Where  nature  moves,  and  rapture  warms  the  mind  • 
Nor  lofe,  for  that  malignant  dull  delight, 
The  gen'rous  pleafure  to  be  charm 'd  with  wit. 
But  in  fuch  lays  as  neither  ebb,  nor  flow, 
Corre6Hy  cold,  and  regularly  low, 
That  ftiunning  faults,  one  quiet  tenour  keep ; 
We  cannot  blame  indeed- — but  we  may  fleep. 
In  wit,  as  nature,  what  affects  our  hearts 
Is  not  th5  exaitnefs  of  peculiar  parts ; 
'Tis  not  a  lip,  or  eye,  we  beauty  call, 
But  the  joint  force  and  full  refult  of  all. 


*  Diligent cr  legendum  eft^  ac  poene  ad  fcribcndi  follicitudincm  :    Nee  per  partes  modo 
fcrutanda  funt  omnia^  fed  perkclus  liber  utique  ex  integro  rejumendus.     Quintil. 

Thus 


ESSAT  on  CRITICISM.  s9 

Thus  when  we  view  fome  well-proportioned  dome, 

(The  world's  juft  wonder,  and  evn  thine  O Rome !) 

No  fingle  parts  unequally  furpriize; 

All  comes  united  to  th' admiring  eyes; 

No  monftrous  height,  or  breadth,  or  length  appear; 

The  Whole  at  once  is  bold,  and  regular. 

Whoever  thinks  a  faultlefs  piece  to  fee, 
Thinks  what  ne'er  was,  nor  is,  nor  e'er  lhall  be. 
In  ev'ry  work  regard  the  Writer's  End, 
Since  none  can  compafs  more  than  they  intend ; 
And  if  the  means  be  juft,  the  condudl  true, 
Applaufe,  in  fpight  of  trivial  faults,  is  due. 
As  men  of  breeding,  fometimes  men-  of  wit, 
T'  avoid  great  errors,  muft  the  lefs  commit* 
Negledt  the  rules  each  Verbal  Critic  lays, 
For  not  to  know  fome  trifles,  is  a  praife. 
Moft  Critics,  fond  of  fome  fubfervient  art, 
Still  make  the  whole  depend  upon  a  part, 
They  talk  of  principles,  but  notions  prize, 
And  all  to  one  lov'd  Folly  facrifice. 

N  Once 


50  ESSAY  on  CRITICISM. 

Once  on  a  time,  La  Mancha's  Knight,  they  fay, 
A  certain  Bard  encountering  on  the  way, 
Difcours'd  in  terms  as  juft,  with  looks  as  fage, 
As  e'er  could  Dennis,  of  the  laws  o'th'ftage; 
Concluding  all  were  defp'rate  fots  and  fools, 
That  durft  depart  from  Arifiotle's  rules. 
Our  author,  happy  in  a  judge  fo  nice, 
Produc'd  his  Play,  and  begg'd  the  Knight's  advice  ; 
Made  him  obferve  the  fubje6l  and  the  plot, 
The  manners,  paflions,  unities,  what  not  ? 
All  which,  exa6t  to  rule,  were  brought  about, 
Were  but  a  Combate  in  the  lifts  left  out. 
"  What!  leave  the  combate  out?"  exclaims  the  knight; 
Yes,  or  we  muft  renounce  the  Stagyrite. 
"  Not  fo  by  heav'n"  (he  anfwers  in  a  rage) 
u  Knights,  fquires,  and  fteeds,  muft  enter  on  the  ftage.'* 
The  ftage  can  ne'er  fo  vaft  a  throng  contain. 
"  Then  build  a  new,  or  a6t  it  in  a  Plain." 

Thus  Critics,  of  lefs  judgment  than  caprice, 
Curious,  not  knowing,  not  exait,  but  nice, 

Form 


ESSAT  on  CRITICISM.  9i 

Form  fliort  Ideas ;   and  offend  in  arts 

(As  moft  in  manners)  by  a  love  to  parts. 

Some  to  Conceit  alone  their  tafte  confine, 

And  glitt'ring  thoughts  ftruck  out  at  ev'ry  line; 

Pleas'd  with  a  work  where  nothing's  juft  or  fit ; 

One  glaring  Chaos  and  wild  heap  of  wit. 

Poets  like  painters,  thus,  unskill'd  to  trace 

The  naked  nature  and  the  living  grace, 

With  gold  and  jewels  cover  ev'ry  part, 

And  hide  with  Ornaments  their  want  of  art. 

True  *  wit  is  nature  to  advantage  drefs'd, 

What  oft'  was  thought,  but  ne'er  fo  well  exprefs'd ; 

Something,  whofe  truth  convinc'd  at  fight  we  find. 

That  gives  us  back  the  image  of  our  mind. 

As  fliades  more  fweetly  recommend  the  light, 

So  modefl  plainnefs  fets  off  fprightly  wit  : 

For  works  may  have  more  wit  than  does  'em  good, 

As  bodies  perifli  through  excefs  of  blood. 


#  Naturam  intueamur,  ham  fequamur ;    id  facillime  accifiunt  animl  quod  agnofcunt. 
Quincil.  lib.  8.  c.  3. 

N  2  Others 


92  ESSJT  on   CRITICISM. 

Others  for  Language  all  their  care  exprefs, 
And  value  books,  as  women  men,  for  Drefs : 

Their  praife  is  ftill the  Style  is  excellent  : 

The  Senfe,  they  humbly  take  upon  content. 

Words  are  like  leaves ;  and  where  they  moft  abound, 

Much  fruit  of  fenfe  beneath  is  rarely  found. 

Falfe  Eloquence,  like  the  Prifmatic  glafs ; 

Its  gawdy  colours  fpreads  on  ev'ry  place ; 

The  face  of  nature  we  no  more  furvey, 

All  glares  alike,  without  diftin6tion  gay : 

But  true  Expreflion,  like  th'  unchanging  Sun, 

Clears,  and  improves  whatever  it  fliines  upon, 

It  gilds  all  obje&s,  but  it  alters  none.  j 

Expreflion  is  the  drefs  of  thought,  and  ftill 

Appears  more  decent,  as  more  fuitable ; 

A  vile  conceit  in  pompous  words  exprefs'c^ 

Is  like  a  clown  in  regal  purple  drefs'd  : 

For  different  ftyles  with  different  fubje&s  fort, 

As  feveral  garbs  with  country,  town,  and  court. 

Some 


i 


ESSJT  on  CRITICISM.  93 

Some  #  by  Old  words  to  fame  have  made  pretence : 
Ancients  in  phrafe,  meer  moderns  in  their  fenfe  ! 
Such  labour'd  nothings,  in  fo  ftrange  a  ftyle, 
Amaze  th'  unlearn'd,  and  make  the  learned  fmile. 
Unlucky,  as  Fungofo  in  the  f  Play,  ^ 

Thefe  fparks  with  aukward  vanity  difplay  l 

What  the  fine  Gentlemen  wore  Yefterday  :  \ 

And  but  fo  mimic  ancient  wits  at  beft, 
As  apes  our  grandfires,  in  their  doublets  dreft. 
In  words,  as  faihions,  the  fame  rule  will  hold ; 
Alike  fantaftic,  if  too  new,  or  old ; 
Be  not  the  firft  by  whom  the  new  are  try'd, 
Nor  yet  the  laft  to  lay  the  old  afide. 

t  But  moft  by  Numbers  judge  a  Poet's  fong, 
And  fmooth  or  rough,  with  them,  is  right  or  wrong ; 


*  AboYrta  £5?  abrogata  retinere,  infolentia  cujufdam  eft,  &?  frivol*  in  parvis  jac7anti<e. 
Quintil.  lib.  I.  c.6. 

Opus  eft  ut  Verba  h  vetuftate  repetita  neque  crebra  Jint,  neque  manifefta,  quia  nil  eft 
odiofius  affeblatione,  nee  utique  ab  ultimis  repetita  temporibus.  Oratio  cujus  fumma  vir- 
tus eft  perfpicuitas,  quam  fit  vitiofa  ft  egeat  interprets  ?  Ergo  ut  novorum  optima  erunt 
maxirae  Vetera,  rta  veterum  maxime  nova.     Idem. 

-f  Ben.  JohnfonV  Every  Man  in  his  Humour. 

\  Quis  populi  fermo  eft  ?  quis  enim  ?  nifi  carmine  molli  Nunc  demum  numero  fluere  ut 
per  lave  feveros  Effugit  junftura  ungues  :  fcit  tenders  verfum  j  Non  [ecus  ac  fi  oculo  ru- 
bricam  dirigat  uno.     Perfius,  Sat.  1 . 

In 


94  ESSJY  on  CRITICISM. 

In  the  bright  Mufe  tho'  thoufand  charms  confpire, 
Her  Voice  is  all  thefe  tuneful  fools  admire ; 
Who  haunt  Pamajfus  but  to  pleafe  their  ear,         y 
Not  mend  their  minds ;  as  fome  to  Church  repair,^ 
Not  for  the  do&rine,  but  the  mufic  there.  j 

Thefe  equal  fyllables  alone  require, 
Tho5  *  oft'  the  ear  the  open  vowels  tire ; 
While  expletives  their  feeble  aid  do  join ; 
And  ten  low  words  oft'  creep  in  one  dull  line ; 
While  they  ring  round  the  fame  unvary'd  chimes, 
With  fure  returns  of  ftill-expected  rhymes. 
Where-e'er  you  find  the  cooling  wejiem  breeze, 
In  the  next  line,  it  whifpers  thro'  the  trees ; 
If  cryftal  ftreams  with  pleajing  murmurs  creep, 
The  reader's  threaten'd  (not  in  vain)  with  Jleep. 
Then,  at  the  laft,  and  only  couplet  fraught 
With  fome  unmeaning  thing  they  call  a  Thought, 


*  Fugiemus  crebras  vocalium  concur/tones,  qua  rvafiam  atque  hiantem  orationem  red- 
dunt.    Cic.  ad  Herenn.  lib.  4.     Vide  ctiam  Quintil.  lib.  p.  c.  4. 


A  need- 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM.  9S 

A  needlefs  Alexandrine  ends  the  fbng, 

That  like  a  wounded  fnake,  drags  its  flow  length  along. 

Leave  fuch  to  tune  their  own  dull  rhimes,  and  know 

What's  roundly  fmooth,  or  languifliingly  flow ; 

And  praife  the  eafy  vigor  of  a  line, 

Where  Denhanfs  ftrength,and  Wallerh  fweetnefs  join. 

True  eafe  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance, 

As  thofe  move  eafieft  who  have  learn'd  to  dance. 

*Tis  not  enough  no  harlhnefs  gives  ofFence, 

The  found  muft  feem  an  echo  to  the  fenfe. 

Soft  is  the  ftrain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  fmooth  ftream  in  fmoother  numbers  flows ; 

But  when  loud  billows  lafh  the  founding  fhore. 

The  hoarfe,  rough  verfe  fliould  like  the  torrent  roar. 
When  Ajax  ftrives,  fome  rock's  vaft  weight  to  throw,. 

The  line  too  labours,  and  the  words  move  flow  -y 
Not  fo,  when  fwift  Camilla  fcours  the  plain, 
Flies  o'er  th'unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

Hear 


96  ESSAT  on  CRITICISM. 

Hear  how  *  Tintotheus'  various  lays  furprize, 
And  bid  alternate  paflions  fall  and  rife! 
While,  at  each  change,  the  fon  of  Lybian  Jove 
Now  burns  with  glory,  and  then  melts  with  love : 
Now  his  fierce  eyes  with  fparkling  fury  glow, 
Now  fighs  Ileal  out,  and  tears  begin  to  flow  : 
Verjians  and  Greeks  like  turns  of  nature  found, 
And  the  World's  vi6tor  ftood  fubdu'd  by  Sound ! 
The  pow'r  of  Mufic  all  our  hearts  allow  ; 
And  what  Timotheus  was,  is  Dryden  now. 

Avoid  Extreams ;  and  fhun  the  fault  of  fuch, 
Who  ftill  are  pleas'd  too  little,  or  too  much. 
At  ev'ry  trifle  fcorn  to  take  offence, 
That  always  ihows  great  pride,  or  little  fenfe ; 
Thofe  heads,  as  ftomachs,  are  not  fure  the  beft, 
Which  naufeate  all,  and  nothing  can  digeft. 
Yet  let  not  each  gay  Turn  thy  rapture  move, 
For  fools  admire,  but  men  of  fenfe  approve. 

*  Alexander'*  Fea/l,  or  the  Power  of  Mufic  \  An  Ode  by  Mr.  Dryden. 

As 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM  91 

As  things  feem  large  which  we  thro'  mills  defcry, 
Dulnefs  is  ever  apt  to  magnify. 

Some  the  French  writers,  fome  our  own  defpife ; 
The  ancients  only,  or  the  moderns  prize. 
(Thus  Wit,  like  Faith,  by  each  man  is  apply'd 
To  one  fmall  fe6t,  and  all  are  damn'd  befide.) 
Meanly  they  feek  the  blefling  to  confine, 
And  force  that  fun  but  on  a  part  to  fhine, 
Which  not  alone  the  fouthern  wit  fublimes, 
But  ripens  fpirits  in  cold  northern  climes; 
Which  from  the  firft  has  fhone  on  ages  paft, 
Enlights  the  prefent,  and  fliall  warm  the  laft. 
(Tho'  each  may  feel  encreafes  and  decays, 
And  fee  now  clearer  and  now  darker  days) 
Regard  not  then  if  wit  be  old  or  new, 
But  blame  the  falfe,  and  value  ftill  the  true. 

Some  ne'er  advance  a  judgment  of  their  own, 
But  catch  the  fpreading  notion  of  the  town ; 
They  reafon  and  conclude  by  precedent, 
And  own  dale-  nonfenfe  which  they  ne'er  invent. 

O  Some 


98  ESSAT  on  CRITICISM 

Some  judge  of  authors  names,  not  works,  and  then^ 
Nor  praife,  nor  blame  the  writings,  but  the  mea 
Of  all  this  fervile  herd,  the  worft  is  he 
That  in  proud  dulnefs  joins  with  Quality, 
A  conftant  Critic  at  the  great  man's  board, 
To  fetch  and  carry  nonfenfe  for  my  Lord. 
What  woful  fluff  this  madrigal  would  be, 
In  fome  ftarv'd  hackny  Sonneteer,  or  me  ? 
But  let  a  Lord  once  own  the  happy  lines, 
How  the  wit  brightens !  how  the  ftyle  refines ! 
Before  his  facred  name  flies  ev'ry  fault, 
And  each  exalted  Stanza  teems  with  thought! 

The  Vulgar  thus  through  imitation  err ; 
As  oft'  the  Learn'd  by  being  Angular ; 
So  much  they  fcorn  the  crowd,  that  if  the  throng 
By  chance  go  right,  they  purpofely  go  wrong : 
So  Schifmatics  the  plain  believers  quit, 
And  are  but  damn'd  for  having  too  much  wit. 

Some  praife  at  morning  what  they  blame  at  night; 
But  always  think  the  laft  opinion  right. 

A  Mufe 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM.  S9 

A  Mufe  by  thefe  is  like  a  miftrefs  us'd, 
This  hour  file's  idoliz'd,  the  next  abus'd ; 
While  their  weak  heads,  like  towns  unfortify'd, 
'Twixt  fenfe  and  nonfenfe  daily  change  their  fide. 
Ask  them  the  caufe ;    they're  wifer  ftill,  they  fay ; 
And  ftill  to  morrow's  wifer  than  to  day. 
We  think  our  fathers  fools,  fo  wife  we  grow  ; 
Our  wifer  fons,  no  doubt,  will  think  us  fo. 
Once  School-divines  this  zealous  ifle  o'erfpread ; 
Who  knew  moft  Sentences  was  deepeft  read ; 
Faith,  Gofpel,  all,  feem'd  made  to  be  difputed, 
And  none  had  fenfe  enough  to  be  confuted  : 
Scotifts  and  Thoniifts,  now,  in  peace  remain, 
Amidffc  their  kindred  cobwebs  in  Duck-lane. 
If  Faith  itfelf  has  diff'rent  drefles  worn, 
What  wonder  Modes  in  wit  fhould  take  their  turn? 
Oft',  leaving  what  is  natural  and  fit, 
The  current  folly  proves  our  ready  wit; 
And  authors  think  their  reputation  fafe, 
Which  lives  as  long  as  fools  are  pleas'd  to  laugh. 

O  2  Some 


ioo  ESSJY  on  CRITICISM. 

Some  valuing  thofe  of  their  own  fide,  or  mind, 
Still  make  themfelves  the  meafure  of  mankind : 
Fondly  we  think  we  honour  merit  then, 
When  we  but  praife  our  felves  in  other  men. 
Parties  in  Wit  attend  on  thofe  of  State, 
And  publick  faction  doubles  private  hate. 
Pride,  malice,  folly,  again  ft  Dry  den  rofe, 
In  various  fliapes  of  Parfons,  Critics,  Beaus ; 
But  fenfe  furviv'd,  when  merry  jefts  were  paft ; 
For  rifing  merit  will  buoy  up  at  laft. 
Might  he  return,  and  blefs  once  more  our  eyes, 
New  Blackmores  and  new  Milbourns  muft  arife : 
Nay  fhould  great  Homer  lift  his  awful  head, 
Zoilus  again  would  ftart  up  from  the  dead. 
Envy  will  merit,  as  its  fliade,  purfue ; 
But  like  a  fliadow,  proves  the  fubftance  true. 
For  envy'd  Wit,  like  Sol  eclips'd,  makes  known 
Th'  oppofing  body's  groftnefs,  not  its  own. 
When  firft  that  fun  too  pow'rful  beams  difplays, 
It  draws  up  vapours  which  obfcure  its  rays ; 

But 


ESSJT  on  CRITICISM  101 

But  ev'n  thofe  clouds  at  laft  adorn  its  way, 
Reflect  new  glories,  and  augment  the  day. 
Be  thou  the  firft  true  merit  to  befriend, 
His  praife  is  loft,  who  ftays  'till  all  commend. 
Short  is  the  date,  alas,  of  modern  rhymes, 
And  'tis  but  juft  to  let  'em  live  betimes. 
No  longer  now  that  golden  age  appears, 
When  Patriarch-wits  furviv'd  a  thoufand  years; 
Now  length  of  fame  (our  fecond  life)  is  loft, 
And  bare  Threefcore  is  all  ev'n  that  can  boaft : 
Our  fbns  their  father's  failing  Language  fee, 
And  fuch  as  Chaucer  is,  fhall  Drjden  be. 
So  when  the  faithful  pencil  has  defign'd 
Some  bright  Idea  of  the  mailer's  mind, 
Where  a  new  world  leaps  out  at  his  commandr 
And  ready  nature  waits  upon  his  hand ; 
When  the  ripe  colours  foften  and  unite? 
And  fweetly  melt  into  juft  fliade  and  light, 
When  mellowing  years  their  full  perfection  give, 

And  each  bold  figure  juft  begins  to  live; 

The 


io2  ESSAY  on  CRITICISM. 

The  treach'rous  colours  the  fair  art  betray, 
And  all  the  bright  creation  fades  away! 

Unhappy  Wit,  like  moft  miftaken  things, 
Attones  not  for  that  envy  which  it  brings. 
In  youth  alone  its  empty  praife  we  boaft, 
But  foon  the  fliort-liv'd  vanity  is  loft  ! 
Like  fome  fair  flow'r  the  early  fpring  fupplies, 
That  gaily  blooms,  but  ev'n  in  blooming  dies. 
What  is  this  wit  which  muft  our  cares  employ  ? 
The  owner's  wife,  that  other  men  enjoy ; 
Still  moft  our  trouble  when  the  moft  admir'd ; 
The  more  we  give,  the  more  is  ftill  requir'd : 
The  fame  with  pains  we  gain,  but  lofe  with  eafe ; 
Sure  fome  to  vex,  but  never  all  to  pleafe ; 
5Tis  what  the  vicious  fear,  the  virtuous  fliun  ; 
By  fools  'tis  hated,  and  by  knaves  undone ! 
If  wit  fo  much  from  ign'rance  undergo, 
Ah  let  not  learning  too  comriience  its  foe ! 
Of  old,  thofe  met  rewards  who  could  excell, 
And  fuch  were  prais'd  who  but  endeavour'd  well : 

Tho' 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM.  103 

Tho'  Triumphs  were  to  Gen'rals  only  due, 
Crowns  were  referv'd  to  grace  the  Soldiers  too. 
Now,  they  who  reach  Tarnaffus*  lofty  crown, 
Employ  their  pains  to  fpurn  fome  others  down ; 
And  while  felf-love  each  jealous  writer  rules> 
Contending  wits  become  the  fport  of  fools. 
But  ftill  the  word  with  moft  regret  commend, 
For  each  111  Author  is  as  bad  a  Friend. 
To  what  bafe  ends,  and  by  what  abje6t  ways^ 
Are  mortals  urg'd  thro'  facred  Luft  of  praife ! 
Ah  ne'er  fo  dire  a  thirft  of  glory  boaft, 
Nor  in  the  Critic  let  the  Man  be  loft ! 
Good-nature  and  good-fenfe  muft  ever  join  ; 
To  err  is  humane,  to  forgive,  divine. 
But  if  in  noble  minds  fome  dregs  remain, 
Not  yet  purg'd  off,  of  fpleen  and  fow'r  difdain, 
Difcharge  that  rage  on  more  provoking  crimes, 
Nor  fear  a  dearth  in  thefe  flagitious  times. 
No  pardon  vile  Obfcenity  fhould  find, 
Tho'  wit  and  art  confpire  to  move  your  mind ; 

But 


io+  ESSJT  on  CRITICISM 

But  Dulnefs  with  obfcenity  muft  prove 

As  fliameful  fure  as  Impotence  in  love. 

In  the  fat  age  of  pleafure,  wealth,  and  eafe, 

Sprung  the  rank  weed,  and  thriv'd  with  large  increafe ; 

When  Love  was  all  an  eafy  Monarch's  care ; 

Seldom  at  council,  never  in  a  war : 

Jilts  rul'd  the  ftate,  and  ftatefmen  Farces  writ ; 

Nay  wits  had  peniions,  and  young  Lords  had  wit : 

The  fair  fate  panting  at  a  Courtier's  play, 

And  not  a  Mask  went  un~improv'd  away : 

The  modeft  fan  was  lifted  u.p  no  more, 

And  virgins  fmil'd  at  what  they  blufh'd  before 

The  following  licence  of  a  foreign  reign 
Did  all  the  dregs  of  bold  Socinus  drain ; 
Then  fir  ft  the  Belgian  morals  were  ex  toll  'd  ; 
We  their  religion  had,  and  they  our  gold : 
Then  unbelieving  Priefts  reform 'd  the  nation, 
And  taught  more  pleafant  methods  of  falvation ; 
Where  heav'ns  free  fubjecls  might  their  rights  difpute, 
Left  God  himfelf  ihould  feem  too  abfolute. 

4         Pulpits 


ESSJT  on  CRITICISM.  105 

Pulpits  their  facred  fa  tire  learn'd  to  fpare, 
And  Vice  admir'd  to  find  a  flatt'rer  there ! 
Encourag'd  thus,  wit's  Titans  brav'd  the  skies, 
And  the  Prefs  groan'd  with  licenc'd  blafphemics — 
Thefe  monfters,  Critics !  with  your  darts  engage, 
Here  point  your  thunder,  and  exhauft  your  rage ! 
Yet  fhun  their  fault,  who,  fcandalouily  nice, 
Will  needs  miftake  an  author  into  vice ; 
All  feems  infected  that  th'  infected  fpy, 
As  all  looks  yellow  to  the  jaundic'd  eye. 

Learn  then  what  Morals  Critics  ought  to  ftiow, 
For  'tis  but  half  a  judge's  task,  to  know. 
'Tis  iiot  enough,  wit,  art,  and  learning  join ; 
In  all  you  fpeak,  let  truth  and  candor  ihine :    r 
That  not  alone  what  to  your  judgment's  due, 
All  may  allow;  but  feek  your  friendfhip  too. 

Be  filent  always  when  you  doubt  your  fenfe^ 
And  fpeak,  tho'  fure,  with  feeming  diffidence: 
Some  pofitive,  perfiftkig  fops  we  know, 
That,  if  once  wrong,  will  needs  be  always  fo ; 

P  But 


io6  ESSAT  on  CRITICISM. 

But  you,  with  pleafure  own  your  errors  paft, 
And  make,  each  day,  a  Critic  on  the  laft. 

'Tis  not  enough,  your  counfel  ftill  be  true ; 
Blunt  truths  more  mifchief  than  nice  falfhoods  do ; 
Men  muft  be  taught  as  if  you  taught  them  not, 
And  things  unknown  propos'd  as  things  forgot. 
Without  good  breeding,  truth  is  dif-approv'd  $. 
That  only  makes  fuperior  fenfe  belov'd. 

Be  niggards  of  advice  on  no  pretence ; 
For  the  worft  avarice  is  that  of  fenfe. 
With  mean  complacence  ne'er  betray  your  truft, 
Nor  be  Co  civil  as  to  prove  unjuft: 
Fear  not  the  anger  of  the  wife  to  raife ; 
Thofe  beft  can  bear  reproof,  who  merit  praife. 

'Twere  well  might  Critics  ftill  this  freedom  take  j 
But  Appius  reddens  at  each  word  you  fpeak, 
And  flares,  tremendous,  with  a  threatening  eye, 
Like  fome  fierce  Tyrant  in  old  Tapeftry ! 
Fear  moft  to  tax  an  Honorable  fool, 
Whofe  right  it  is,  uncenfur'd  to  be  dull ; 

Such 


ESSJY  on  CRITICISM.  107 

Such  without  wit  are  Poets  when  they  pleafe, 
As  without  learning  they  can  take  Degrees. 
Leave  dang'rous  truths  to  unfuccefsful  Satyrs, 
And  flattery  to  fulfome  Dedicators, 
Whom,  when  they  praife,  the  world  believes  no  more, 
Than  when  they  promife  to  give  fcribling  o'er. 
'Tis  beft  fometimes  your  cenfure  to  reftrain, 
And  charitably  let  the  dull  be  vain. 
Your  filence  there  is  better  than  your  fpite. 
For  who  can  rail  fo  long  as  they  can  write  ? 
Still  humming  on,  their  drowzy  courfe  they  keep, 
And  lafh'd  fo  long,  like  Tops,  are  lafh'd  aileep. 
Falfe  fteps  but  help  them  to  renew  the  race, 
As  after  Humbling,  Jades  will  mend  their  pace. 
What  crouds  of  thefe,  impenitently  bold, 
In  founds  and  jingling  fyllables  grown  old, 
Still  run  on  Poets,  in  a  raging  vein, 
Ev'n  to  the  dregs  and  fqueezings  of  the  brain ; 
Strain  out  the  laft  dull  droppings  of  their  fenfe, 
And  rhyme  with  all  the  rage  of  Impotence ! 

P  2  Such 


io8  ESSAY  on   CRITICISM. 

Such  fhamelefs  Bards  we  have;  and  yet  'tis  true^ 
There  are  as  mad,  abandon'd  Critics  too. 
The  bookful  blockhead,  ignorantly  read, 
With  loads  of  learned  lumber  in  his  head, 
With  his  own  tongue  ftill  edifies  his  ears, 
And  always  lift'ning  to  himfelf  appears. 
All  books  he  reads,  and  all  he  reads  aflails, 
From  Dry  den's  Fables  down  to  2) — -y's  Tales. 
With  him,  moil  authors  fteal  their  works,  or  buy; 
Garth  did  not  write  his  own  Difpenfary. 
Name  a  new  Play,  and  he's  the  Poet's  friend, 
Nay  fliow'd  his- faults— but  when  wou'd  Poets  mend? 
No  place  fo  facred  from  fuch  fops  is  barr'd, 
Nor  isPauVs  church  more  fafe  th&nVauVs church-yard s 
Nay,  fly  to  altars ;  there  they'll  talk  you  dead ; 
For  Fools  ruih  in  where  Angels  fear  to  tread. 


Diftruftful  fenfe  with  modeft  caution  fpeaks, 
It  ftill  looks  home,  and  Ihort  excurfions  makes  3 


.1 

But  rattling  nonfenfe  in  full  vollies  breaks,  j 

And  never  fliock'd,  and  never  turn'd  afide, 

Burfts  out,  refiftlefs^  with  a  thund'ring  tyde ! 

But 


ESSJT  on  CRITICISM  109 

But  vvhere's  the  man,  who  counfel  can  beftow, 
Still  pleas'd  to  teach,  and  yet  not  proud  to  know  ? 
Unbiafs'd,  or  by  favor,  or  by  fpite ; 
Not  dully  prepoffefs'd,  or  blindly  right ; 
Tho'  learn'd,  well-bred  ;  and  tho'  well-bred,  lincere ; 
Modeftly  bold,   and  humanly  fevere  ? 
Who  to  a  friend  his  faults  can  freely  fhow, 
And  gladly  praife  the  merit  of  a  foe  ? 
Bleft  with  a  tafte  exa6t,  yet  unconfin'd;. 
A  knowledge  both  of  books  and  humankind ;. 
Gen'rous  converfe ;    a  foul  exempt  from  pride ; 
And  love  to  praife,  withreafon  on  his  fide? 

Such  once  were  Critics;    fuch  the  happy  few, 
Athens  and  Rome  in  better  ages  knew. 
The  mighty  Stagyrite  firfl:  left  the  fhore, 
Spread  all  his  fails,  and  durft  the  deeps  explore; 
He  fteer'd  fecurely,  and  difcover'd  far, 
Led  by  the  light  of  the  M&onian  Stan 
Poets,  a  race  long  unconfin'd  and  free, 
Still  fond  and  proud  of  favage  liberty, 

Raceiv'd 


no  ESSJT  on  CRITICISM. 

Receiv'd  his  laws ;  and  ftood  convinc'd  'twas  fit 
Who  conquer'd  Nature,  fhould  prefide  o'er  Wit. 

Horace  ftill  charms  with  graceful  negligence, 
And  without  method  talks  us  into  fenfe, 
Will  like  a  friend,  familiarly  convey 
The  trueft  notions  in  the  eafieft  way. 
He,  who  fupreme  in  judgment,  as  in  wit, 
Might  boldly  cenfure,  as  he  boldly  writ, 
Yet  judg'd  with  coolnefs  tho'  he  fung  with  fire, 
His  precepts  teach  but  what  his  works  infpire. 
Our  Critics  take  a  contrary  extream, 
They  judge  with  fury,  but  they  write  with  fleme : 
Nor  fuffers  Horace  more  in  wrong  Tranflations 
By  Wits,  than  Critics  in  as  wrong  Quotations. 

See  *  Dionyfius  Homefs  thoughts  refine, 
And  call  new  beauties  forth  from  evry  line ! 

Fancy  and  art  in  gay  Petronius  pleafe, 
The  fcholar's  learning,  with  the  courtier's  eafe. 

*  Dionyflus  of  Halicarnafius. 

In 


ESSAT  on  CRITICISM.  ,„ 

In  grave  Qyintilian's  copious  work,  we  find 
The  jufteft  rules,  and  cleared  method  join'd : 
Thus  ufeful  arms  in  magazines  we  place, 
All  rangM  in  order,  and  difpos'd  with  grace  ; 
Nor  thus  alone  the  curious  eye  to  pleafe, 
But  to  be  found,  when  need  requires,  with  eafe. 

Thee,  bold  Longinus  I  all  the  Nine  infpire, 
And  blefs  their  Critic  with  a  Poet's  fire. 
An  ardent  judge,  who  zealous  in  his  truft, 
With  warmth  gives  fentence,  yet  is  always  juft ; 
Whofe  -own  example  ftrengthens  all  his  laws*, 
And  is  himfelf  that  great  Sublime  he  draws. 

Thus  long  fucceeding  Critics  juftly  reign'd, 
Licence  reprefs'd,  and  ufeful  laws  ordain'd.. 
Learning  and  Rome  alike  in  empire  grew, 
And  arts  ftill  follow'd  where  her  Eagles  flew. 
From  the  fame  foes,  at  laft,  both  felt  their  doom> 
And  the  fame  age  faw  Learning  fall,  and  Rome. 
With  tyranny,  then  fuperftition  join'd, 
As  that  the  bodv,  this  enflav'd  the  mind  j 


ii2  ESSJY  on  CRITICISM. 

Much  was  believ'd,  but  little  underftood, 
And  to  be  dull  was  conftru'd  to  be  good; 
A  fecond  deluge  learning  thus  o'er-run, 
And  the  Monks  finifli'd  what  the  Goths  begun. 

At  length  Erafmus,  that  great,  injur'd  name, 
(The  glory  of  the  Priefthood,  and  the  fhame !) 
Stem'd  the  wild  torrent  of  a  barb'rous  age, 
And  drove  thofe  Holy  Vandals  off  the  ftage. 

But  fee  !  each  Mufe,  in  Leoh  golden  days, 
Starts  from  her  trance,  and  trims  her  wither'd  bays  ! 
Rome's  ancient  Genius,  o'er  its  ruins  fpread, 
Shakes  off  the  duft,  and  rears  his  rev'rend  head ! 
Then  Sculpture  and  her  fifter-arts  revive ; 
Stones  leap'd  to  form,  and  rocks  began  to  live ; 
With  fweeter  notes  each  rifmg  Temple  rung ; 
A  Raphael  painted,  and  a  *  Vida  fung ! 
Immortal  Vida  I  on  whofe  honour 'd  brow 
The  Poet's  bays  and  Critic's  ivy  grow : 


*  M.  Hieronymus  Vidn,  an  excellent  Latin  Poet,  who  writ  an  Art  of  Pcctty  in 
Verfe.     He  flwriflfd  in  the  time  of  Leo  the  Totth. 

Cremona 


ESSAY  on  CRITICISM.  n3 

Cremona  now  fhall  ever  boaft  thy  name, 
As  next  in  place  to  Mantua,  next  in  fame ! 

But  foon  by  impious  arms  from  Latium  chas'd, 
Their  ancient  bounds  the  banifh'd  Mufes  paft  ; 
Thence  arts  o'er  all  the  northern  world  advance ; 
But  critic  learning  flourifh'd  moft  in  France: 
The  rules,  a  nation  born  to  ferve,  obeys ; 
And  Boileau  ftill  in  right  of  Horace  fways. 
But  we,  brave  Britons,  foreign  laws  defpis'd, 
And  kept  unconquer'd,  and  uncivilised, 
Fierce  for  the  liberties  of  wit,  and  bold, 
We  ftill  defy'd  the  Romans,  as  of  old. 
Yet  fome  there  were,  among  the  founder  few 
Of  thofe  who  lefs  prefum'd,  and  better  knew, 
Who  durft  aflert  the  jufter  ancient  caufe, 
And  here  reftor'd  Wit's  fundamental  laws 
Such  was  the  Mufe,  whofe  rules  and  practice  tell, 
Nature's  *  chief  mafler-piece  is  writing  well. 

*  EJfay  on  Poetry,  by  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

Q.  Such 


iH  ESSAY  an. CRITICISM 

Such  was  Rofcommon — not  more  learn'd  than  good, 
With  manners  gen'rous  as  his  noble  blood ; 
To  him  the  wit  of  Greece  and  Rome  was  known, 
And  ev'ry  author's  merit  but  his  own. 
Such  late  was  Waifh^ -the  Mufe's  judge  and  friend, 
Who  juftly  knew  to  blame  or  to  commend ; 
To  failings  mild,  but  zealous  for  defert ; 
The  cleareft  Head,  and  the  iincereft  Heart, 
This  humble  praife,  lamented  Shade!  receive, 
This  praife  at  leaft  a  grateful  Mufe  may  give ! 
The  Mufe,  whofe  early  Voice  you  taught  to  fing, 
Prefcrib'd  her  heights,  and  prun'd  her  tender  wing, 
(Her  guide  now  loft)  no  more  attempts  to  rife, 
But  in  low  numbers  fhort  excurfions  tries : 
Content,  if  hence  th'unlearn'd  their  wants  may  view, 
The  learn'd  refled:  on  what  before  they  knew: 
Carelefs  of  Cenfure,  nor  too  fond  of  Fame, 
Still  pleas'd  to  praife,  yet  not  afraid  to  blame; 
Averfe  alike  to  flatter,  or  offend, 
Not  free  from  faults,  nor  yet  too  vain  to  mend. 

THE 


THE 


RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 


A  N 


HEROI-COMICAL 


O     E 


Written  in  the  Year  17 12. 


Nolueram,  Belinda,  tuos  violare  capillos, 
Sed  juvat  hoc  precibus  me  tribuiffe  tuts. 

MARTIAL. 


T    O 


Mrs.   ARABELLA    FERMOR. 


Madam, 

T  will  be  in  vain  to  deny  that  I 
have  fome  regard  for  this  piece, 
lince  I  dedicate  it  to  You.  Yet 
.  you  may  bear  me  witnefs,  it  was 
intended  only  to  divert  a  few 
young  Ladies,  who  have  good 
fenfe  and  good  humour  enough  to  laugh  not  only 
at  their  fex's  little  unguarded  Follies,  but  at  their 
own.  But  as  it  was  communicated  with  the  air  of 
a  Secret,  it  foon  found  its  way  into  the  world.  An 
imperfed:  copy  having  been  offer 'd  to  a  Bookfeller, 
you  had  the  good  nature  for  my  fake  to  confent 
to  the  publication  of  one  more  correct :  This  I 
was  fore'd  to  before  I  had  executed  half  my  de- 
fign,  for  the  Machinery  was  entirely  wanting  to 
compleat  it. 

The 


n8  EPISTLE. 

The  Machinery,  Madam,  is  a  term  invented 
by  the  Critics,  to  fignify  that  part  which  the  Dei- 
ties, Angels,  or  Daemons,  are  made  to  adt  in  a 
Poem :  For  the  ancient  Poets  are  in  one  refpe6fc 
like  many  modern  Ladies ;  let  an  a6tion  be  never 
fo  trivial  in  itfelf,  they  always  make  it  appear  of 
the  utmoft  importance.  Thefe  Machines  I  deter- 
min'd  to  raife  on  a  very  new  and  odd  foundation, 
the  Roftcrucian  doctrine  of  Spirits. 

I  know  how  difagreeable  it  is  to  make  ufe  of 
hard  words  before  a  Lady ;  but  'tis  fo  much  the  con- 
cern of  a  Poet  to  have  his  works  underftood,  and 
particularly  by  your  Sex,  that  you  muft  give  me 
leave  to  explain  two  or  three  difficult  terms. 

The  Rojicrucians  are  a  people  I  muft  bring 
you  acquainted  with  The  beft  account  I  know 
of  them  is  in  a  French  Book  call'd  Le  Comte  de 
Gabalis,  which  both  in  its  title  and  fize  is  fo  like 
a  Novel ,  that  many  of  the  Fair  Sex  have  read 
it  for  one  by  miftake.  According  to  thefe  Gen- 
tlemen, the  four  Elements  are  inhabited  by  Spi- 
rits, which  they  call  Sylphs,  Gnomes ,  Nymphs,  and 
Salamanders.  The  Gnomes,  or  Daemons  of  Earth, 
delight  in  mifchief ;  but  the  Sylphs,  whofe  habi- 
tation is  in  the  air,  are  the  beft  condition 'd  crea- 
tures imaginable.  For  they  fay,  any  mortals 
may  enjoy  the  moft  intimate  familiarities  with 
thefe  gentle  Spirits,   upon  a  condition  very  eafy 

*  to 


EPISTLE.  n9 

to  all  true  adepts,  an  inviolate  prefervation  of 
Chaftity. 

As  to  the  following  Canto's,  all  the  paflages  of 
them  are  as  fabulous,  as  the  Vifion  at  the  begin- 
ning, or  the  Transformation  at  the  end  ;  (except 
the  lofs  of  your  Hair,  which  I  always  name  with 
Reverence.)  The  Human  perfons  are  as  fictitious 
as  the  Airy  ones  ;  and  the  chara6ler  of  Belinda,  as 
it  is  now  manag'd,  refembles  You  in  nothing  but 
in  Beauty. 

If  this  Poem  had  as  many  Graces  as  there  are 
in  your  Perfon,  or  in  your  Mind,  yet  I  could  ne- 
ver hope  it  lhould  pafs  thro'  the  world  half  fo 
Uncenfur'd  as  You  have  done.  But  let  its  for- 
tune be  what  it  will,  mine  is  happy  enough,  to 
have  given  me  this  occafion  of  alluring  You  that 
I  am,  with  the  trueft  efteem, 

Madam, 


Tour  niofl.  obedient , 
Humble  Servant, 


A.  Pope. 


J*.  GribcJinin.  ttfculp. 


THE 


RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 


CANTO     I. 


HAT  dire  Offence  from  am'rous 

oaufes  fprings, 
What   mighty   contefts   rife   from 
trivial  things, 

I  fing This  verfe  to  C— ,  Mufe!  is  due: 

This,  ev'n  Belinda  may  vouchfafe  to  view  i 
Slight  is  the  fubjed,  but  not  fo  the  praife, 
If  She  infpire,  and  He  approve  my  lays. 

R  Say 


122  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

Say  what  flrange  motive,  Goddefs !  could  compel; 
A  well-bred  Lord  t9  aflault  a  gentle  Belle  ? 
Oh  fay  what  flranger  caufe,  yet  unexplor'dy 
Cou'd  make  a  gentle  Belle  reject  a  Lord  ? 
And  dwells  fuch  rage  in  fofteft  bofoms  then  ? 
And  lodge  fuch  daring  fouls  in  Little  men  ? 

Sol  thro5  white  curtains  ftiot  a  tim'rous  ray,. 
And  op'd  thofe  eyes  that  muft  eclipfe  the  day ; 
Now  lapdogs  give  themfelves  the  rowfing  ftiake, 
And  fleeplefs  lovers,  juft  at  twelve,  awake: 
Thrice  rung  the  bell,  the  flipper  knock'd  the  ground^ 
And  the  prefs'd  watch  return'd  a  filver  found. 
Belinda  ftill  her  downy  pillow  preft, 
Her  guardian  Sylph  prolong'd  the  balmy  reft. 
*Twas  he  had  fummon'd  to  her  filent  bed 
The  Morning-dream  that  hover'd  o'er  her  head. 
A  Youth  more  glittering  than  a  Birth-night  Beau, 
(That  ev'n  in  flumber  caus'd  her  cheek  to  glow) 
Seem'd  to  her  ear  his  winning  lips  to  lay, 
And  thus  in  whifpers  faid,  or  feem'd  to  fay. 

Fairefc 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK.  123 

Faireft  of  mortals,  thou  diftinguifh'd  care 
Of  thoufand  bright  Inhabitants  of  Air ! 
If  e'er  one  vifion  touch'd  thy  infant  thought, 
Of  all  the  Nurfe  and  all  the  Prieft  have  taught, 
Of  airy  Elves  by  moonlight  lhadows  feetl, 
The  filver  token,  and  the  circled  green, 
Or  virgins  vifited  by  Angel-pow'rs, 
With  golden  crowns  and  wreaths  of  heav'nly  flowVs, 
Hear  and  believe !  thy  own  importance  know, 
Nor  bound  thy  narrow  views  to  things  below. 
Some  fecret  truths  from  Learned  Pride  conceal'd, 
To  Maids  alone  and  Children  are  reveal'd : 
What  tho'  no  credit  doubting  Wits  may  give  ? 
The  Fair  and  Innocent  ihall  ftill  believe. 
Know  then,  unnumber'd  Spirits  round  thee  fly, 
The  light  Militia  of  the  lower  sky; 
Thefe,  tho'  unfeen,  are  ever  on  the  wing, 
Hang  o'er  the  Box;  and  hover  round  the  Ring : 
Think  what  an  Equipage  thou  haft  in  air, 
And  view  with  fcorn  two  Pages  and  a  Chair. 

R  2  As 


124-  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

As  now  your  own,  our  beings  were  of  oldj 
And  once  inclos'd  in  Woman's  beauteous  mold'; 
Thence,  by  a  foft  tranfition,  we  repair 
From  earthly  Vehicles  to  thefe  of  air. 
Think  not,  when  Woman's  tranfient  breath  is  fled, 
That  all  her  vanities  at  once  are  dead : 
Succeeding  vanities  fhe  ftill  regards, 
And  tho'  flie  plays  no  more,  o'erlooks  the  cards; 
Her  joy  in  gilded  Chariots,  when  alive, 
And  love  of  Ombre,  after  death  furvive. 
For  when  the  Fair  in  all  their  pride  expire, 
To  their  firft  Elements  the  Souls  retire : 
The  Sprites  of  fiery  Termagants  in  flame 
Mount  up,  and  take  a  Salamander's  name. 
Soft  yielding  minds  to  water  glide  away, 
And  fip,  with  Nymphs,  their  elemental  Tea. 
The  graver  Prude  links  downward  to  a  Gnome, 
In  fearch  of  mifchief  ftill  on  earth  to  roam. 
The  light  Coquettes  in  Sylphs  aloft  repair, 
And  fport  and  flutter  in  the  fields  of  air. 

Know 


The  RAPE  of  tie  LOCK  125 

Know  farther  yet ;  whoever  fair  and  chafte 
Reje&s  mankind,  is  by  fome  Sylph  embrac'd : 
For  Spirits,  freed  from  mortal  laws,  with  eafe 
AflTume  what  fexes  and  what  ihapes  they  pleafe; 
What  guards  the  purity  of  melting  Maids, 
In  courtly  Balls,  and  midnight  Mafquerades, 
Safe  from  the  treach'rous  friend,  and  daring  fpark, 
The  glance  by  day,  the  whifper  in  the  dark ; 
When  kind  occafion  prompts  their  warm  defires, 
When  mufic  foftens,  and  when  dancing  fires? 
*Tis  but  their  Sylph,  the  wife  Celeftials  know, 
Tho5  Honour  is  the  word  with  Men  below. 

Some  nymphs  there  are,  too  confcious  of  their  face, 
For  Life  predeflin'd  to  the  Gnomes  embrace. 
Thefe  fwell  their  profpe&s  and  exalt  their  pride, 
When  offers  are  difdain'd,  and  love  deny'd. 
Then  gay  Ideas  crowd  the  vacant  brain, 
While  Peers  and  Dukes,  and  all  their  fweeping  train, 
And  Garters,  Stars,  and  Coronets  appear, 
And  in  foft  founds,  your  grace  falutes  their  ear. 

Tis 


126  TJjc  RJPE  of  the  LOCK 

Tis  thefe  that  early  taint  the  female  foul, 
Inftru6t  the  eyes  of  young  Coquettes  to  roll, 
Teach  Infants  cheeks  a  bidden  blufh  to  know, 
And  little  hearts  to  flutter  at  a  Beau. 

Oft'  when  the  world  imagine  Women  ftray, 
The  Sylphs  thro'  myftic  mazes  guide  their  way, 
Thro'  all  the  giddy  circle  they  purfue, 
And  old  impertinence  expel  by  new. 
What  tender  maid  but  muft  a  vi6Hm  fall 
To  one  man's  Treat,  but  for  another's  Ball  ? 
When  Florio  fpeaks,  what  virgin  could  withftand, 
If  gentle  Damon  did  not  fquee^e  her  hand  ? 
With  varying  vanities,  from  ev'ry  part, 
They  Ihift  the  moving  Toyfhop  of  their  heart ; 
Where  Wigs  with  Wigs,  with  Sword-knots  Sword- 
knots  ftrive, 
Beaus  banifh  Beaus.,  and  Coaches  Coaches  drive. 
This  erring  mortals  Levity  may  call, 
Oh  blind  to  truth !  the  Sylphs  contrive  it  all. 


Of 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  127 

Of  thefe  am  I,  who  thy  protection  claim, 
A  watchful  Sprite,  and  Ariel  is  my  name. 
Late,  as  I  rang'd  the  cryftal  wilds  of  Air, 
In  the  clear  Mirror  of  thy  ruling  Star 
I  faw,  alas !  fome  dread  event  impend, 
E're  to  the  main  this  morning  Sun  defcend; 
But  heav'n  reveals  not  what,  or  how,  or  where : 
Warn'd  by  thy  Sylph,  oh  pious  Maid  beware ! 
This  to  difclofe  is  all  thy  guardian  can. 
Beware  of  all,  but  moft  beware  of  man ! 

He  faid ;  when  Shock,  who  thought  flie  flept  too  long, 
Leap'd  up,  and  wak'd  his  miftrefs  with  his  tongue. 
5Twas  then  Belinda !  if  report  fay  true, 
Thy  eyes  firft  open'd  on  a  Billet-doux ; 
Wounds,  Charms,  and  Ardors,  were  no  fooner  read> 
But  all  theVifion  vanifh'd  from  thy  head. 

And  now,  unveil'd,  the  Toilet  ftands  difplay'd; 
Each  filver  Vafe  in  myftic  order  laid. 
Firft,  rob'd  in  white,  the  nymph  intent  adores 
With  head  uncover'd,  the  cofmetic  pow'rs. 

A  heai 


128  The  RAPT,  of  the  LOCK. 

A  heav'nly  Image  in  the  glafs  appears, 
To  that  flie  bends,  to  that  her  eyes  flie  rears ; 
Th'  inferior  Prieftefs,  at  her  altar's  fide, 
Trembling,  begins  the  facred  rites  of  Pride.  < 
Unnumber'd  treafures  ope  at  once,  and  here 
The  various  offerings  of  the  world  appear ; 
From  each  fhe  nicely  culls  with  curious  toil, 
And  decks  the  Goddefs  with  the  glitt'ring  fpoil. 
This  casket  India  s  glowing  gems  unlocks, 
And  all  Arabia  breaths  from  yonder  'box. 
The  Tortoife  here  and  Elephant  unite, 
Transform  5d  to  Combs,  the  fpeckled,  and  the  white. 
Here  files  of  Pins  extend  their  fhining  rows, 
Puffs,  Powders,  Patches,  Bibles,  Billet-doux. 
Now  awful  Beauty  puts  on  all  its  arms; 
The  fair  each  moment  rifes  in  her  charms, 
Repairs  her  fmiles,  awakens  ev'ry  grace, 
And  calls  forth  all  the  wonders  of  vher  face ; 
Sees  by  degrees  a  purer  biufli  arrfe, 
And  keener  lightnings  quicken  in  her  eyes. 

The 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

The  bufy  Sylphs  furround  their  darling  care, 
Thefe  fet  the  head,  and  thofe  divide  the  hair, 
Some  fold  the  fleeve,  while  others  plait  the  gown ; 
And  Bettys  prais'd  for  labours  not  her  own. 


125 


r  "m 


THE 


^*^t?^  ^*?t?%  ^^  t*"\  f^i^%  &^*j  ^%  i^**  c*^  ^*i/  [!*^% 

T*1  T7*~}  (T  ^Y*"!  (T*  T7T~i  fT*  *?K  CT1"  T7^  C  r*T  '*T^>  r*V  i7*SCTi» 


THE 


RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 


CANTO     II. 


OT  with  more  glories,  in  th'etherkl 

plain, 
The  Sun  firft  rifes  o'er  the  purpled 
main, 

Than  iffuing  forth,  the  rival  of  his  beams 
Lanch'd  on  the  bofom  of  the  filver  Thames. 
Fair  nymphs,  and  well-dreft  youths  around  her  ihone, 
But  ev'ry  eye  was  fix'd  on  her  alone. 
On  her  white  breaft  a  fparkling  Crofs  flie  wore, 
Which  Jews  might  kifs,  and  Infidels  adore. 

Her 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  131 

Her  lively  looks  a  fprightly  mind  difclofe, 
Quick  as  her  eyes,  and  as  unfix'd  as  thofe : 
Favours  to  none,  to  all  ihe  fmiles  extends, 
Oft'  fhe  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 
Bright  as  the  fun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  ftrike, 
And,  like  the  fun,  they  fhine  on  all  alike. 
Yet  graceful  eafe,  and  fweetnefs  void  of  pride, 
Might  hide  her  faults,  \iBeUes  had  faults  to  hide: 
If  to  her  fhare  fome  female  errors  fall, 
Look  on  her  face,  and  you'll  forget  'em  all. 

This  nymph,  to  the  definition  of  mankind,    • 
Nourifli'd  two  Locks,  which  graceful  hung  behind 
In  equal  curls,  and  well  confpir'd  to  deck 
With  fhining  ringlets  her  fmooth  iv'ry  neck: 
Love  in  thefe  labyrinths  his  flaves  detains, 
And  mighty  hearts  are  held  in  flender  chains. 
With  hairy  fprindges  we  the  birds  betray, 
Slight  lines  of  hair  furprize  the  finny  prey, 
Fair  treffes  man's  imperial  race  infnare, 
And  beauty  draws  us  with  a  fingle  hair* 

S  2  Th?ad- 


i32  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

Th'  advent'rous  Baron  the  bright  locks  admir'd, 
He  faw,  he  wilh'd,  and  to  the  prize  afpir'd : 
Refolv'd  to  win,  he  meditates  the  way, 
By  force  to  ravilh,  or  by  fraud  betray  ; 
For  when  fuccefs  a  Lover's  toil  attends, 
Few  ask,  if  fraud  or  force  attain'd  his  ends. 

For  this,  e'er  Vhoebus  rofe,  he  had  implojr'd 
Propitious  heav'n,  and  ev'ry  pow'r  ador'd, 

But  chiefly  Love to  Love  an  altar  built, 

Of  twelve  vaft  French  Romances,  neatly  gilt. 
There  lay  three  garters,  half  a  pair  of  gloves ; 
And  all  the  trophies  of  his  former  loves. 
With  tender  Billet-doux  he  lights  the  pyre, 
And  breathes  three  am'rous  fighs  to  raife  the  fire. 
Then  proftrate  falls,  and  begs  with  ardent  eyes 
Soon  to  obtain,  and  long  poflefs  the  prize : 
The  Pow'rs  gave  ear,  and  granted  half  his  pray'r, 
The  reft,  the  winds  difpers'd  in  empty  air. 

But  now  fecure  the  painted  vefTel  glides, 
The  fun-beams  trembling  on  the  floating  tydes, 

While 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  i33 

While  melting  mufic  fteals  upon  the  sky, 
And  foften'd  founds  along  the  waters  die. 
Smooth  flow  the  waves,  the  zephyrs  gently  play, 
Belinda  fmil'd,  and  all  the  world  was  gay. 
All  but  the  Sylph — with  careful  thoughts  oppreft, 
Th'  impending  woe  fate  heavy  on  his  breaft. 
He  fummons  ftrait  his  Denizens  of  air ; 
The  lucid  fquadrons  round  the  fails  repair : 
Soft  o'er  the  fhrouds  aerial  whifpers  breath, 
That  feem'd  but  zephyrs  to  the  train  beneath. 
Some  to  the  fun  their  infect-wings  unfold, 
Waft  on  the  breeze,  or  fink  in  clouds  of  gold. 
Tranfparent  forms,  too  fine  for  mortal  fight, 
Their  fluid  bodies  half  diffolv'd  in  light. 
Loofe  to  the  wind  their  airy  garments  flew, 
Thin  glitt'ring  textures  of  the  filmy  dew ; 
Dipt  in  the  richeft  tin&ure  of  the  skies, 
Where  light  difports  in  ever-mingling  dies, 
While  ev'ry  beam  new  tranfient  colours  flings, 
Colours  that  change  whene'er  they  wave  their  wings. 

Amid 


134  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

Amid  the  circle,  on  the  gilded  maft, 
Superior  by  the  head,  was  Ariel  placed ; 
His  purple  pinions  opening  to  the  fun, 
He  rais'd  his  azure  wand,  and  'thus  begun. 

Ye  Sylphs  and  Sylphids,  to  your  chief  give  ear, 
Fays,  Fairies,  Genii,  Elves,  and  Damons  hear ! 
Ye  know  the  fpheres  and  various  tasks  aflign'd, 
By  laws  eternal,  to  th' aerial  kind. 
Some  in  the  fields  of  pureft  JELther  play, 
And  bask  and  whiten  in  the  blaze  of  day. 
Some  guide  the  courfe  of  wandring  orbs  on  high, 
Or  roll  the  planets  thro'  the  boundlefs  sky. 
Some  lefs  refin'd,  beneath  the  moon's  pale  light 
Hover,  and  catch  the  fhooting  ftars  by  night  -7 
Or  fuck  the  mifts  in  groffer  air  below, 
Or  dig  their  pinions  in  the  painted  bow, 
Or  brew  fierce  tempefts  on  the  wintry  main, 
Or  o'er  the  glebe  diftill  the  kindly  rain. 
Others  on  earth  o'er  humane  race  prefide, 
Watch  all  their  ways,  and  all  their  a&ions  guide : 

Of 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  135 

Of  thefe  the  chief  the  care  of  Nations  own, 
And  guard  with  Arms  divine  the  Britijh  Throne. 

Our  humbler  province  is  to  tend  the  fair ; 
Not  a  lefs  pleafing,  tho'  lefs  glorious  care. 
To  fave  the  powder  from  too  rude  a  gale, 
Nor  let  th'  imprifon'd  eflences  exhale, 
To  draw  frefli  colours  from  the  vernal  flow'rs, 
To  fteal  from  rainbows  e're  they  drop  in  fhow'rs 
A  brighter  wafli ;   to  curl  their  waving  hairs, 
Aflift  their  blufhes,  and  infpire  their  airs ; 
Nay  oft',  in  dreams,  invention  we  beftow, 
To  change  a  Flounce,  or  add  a  Furbelo. 

This  day,  black  Omens  threat  the  brighteft  fair 
That  e  er  deferv'd  a  watchful  fpirit's  care ; 
Some  dire  difafter,  or  by  force,  or  flight ; 
But  what,  or  where,  the  fates  have  wrapt  in  night. 
Whether  the  nymph  fhall  break  Diana's  law, 
Or  fome  frail  China  jar  receive  a  flaw, 
Or  ftain  her  honour,  or  her  new  Brocade, 
Forget  her  pray'rSj  or  mifs  a  mafquerade, 

Or 


i36  TIjc  RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

Or  lofe  her  heart,  or  necklace,  at  a  Ball ; 
Or  whether  heav'n  has  doom'd  that  Shock  muft  fall. 
Hafte  then  ye  fpirits !  to  your  charge  repair ; 
The  flutt'ring  fan  be  Zephyr  ettah  care ; 
The  drops  to  thee,  Brillante,  we  confign ; 
And  Momentilla,  let  the  watch  be  thine ; 
Do  thou,  Crifpijfa,  tend  her  fav'rite  Lock  ; 
Artel  himfelf  fliall  be  the  guard  of  Shock. 

To  fifty  chofen  Sylphs,  of  fpecial  note, 
We  truft  th'  important  charge,  the  Petticoat : 
Oft'  have  we  known  that  fev'nfold  fence  to  fail, 
Tho'  ftifF  with  hoops,  and  arm'd  with  ribs  of  whale. 
From  a  ftrong  line  about  the  filver  bound, 
And  guard  the  wide  circumference  around. 

Whatever  fpirit,  carelefs  of  his  charge, 
His  poll  neglects,   or  leaves  the  fair  at  large, 
Shall  feel  fliarp  vengeance  foon  o'er  take  his  fins, 
Be  ftop'd  in  vials,  or  transfixt  with  pins ; 
Or  plung'd  in  lakes  of  bitter  waflies  lie, 
Or  wedg'd  whole  ages  in  a  bodkin's  eye  : 

Gums 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  137 

Gums  and  Pomatums  lhall  his  flight  reftrain, 
While  clog'd  he  beats  his  filken  wings  in  vain ; 
Or  Alom-ftypticks  with  contracting  pow'r 
Shrink  his  thin  effence  like  a  rivell'd  flow'r : 
Or  as  Ixion  fix'd,  the  wretch  lhall  feel 
The  giddy  motion  of  the  whirling  Mill, 
In  fumes  of  burning  Chocolate  lhall  glow, 
And  tremble  at  the  fea  that  froaths  below ! 

He  fpoke ;   the  fpirits  from  the  fails  defcend ; 
Some,  orb  in  orb,  around  the  nymph  extend, 
Some  thrid  the  mazy  ringlets  of  her  hair, 
Some  hang  upon  the  pendants  of  her  ear ; 
With  beating  hearts  the  dire  event  they  wait, 
Anxious,  and  trembling  for  the  birth  of  Fate. 


THE 


THE 


RAPE  of  the  LOCK 


CANTO     III. 


Lofe  by  thofe  meads,  for  ever  crown'd 
with  flow'rs, 
Where  Thames  with  pride  furveys  his 
rifing  tow'rs, 
There  Hands  a  ftru&ure  of  majeftic  frame, 
Which  from  the  neighboring  Hampton  takes  its  name. 
Here  Britain's  ftatefmen  oft'  the  fall  foredoom 
Of  foreign  tyrants,  and  of  nymphs  at  home ; 
Here  thou,  great  Anna !  whom  three  realms  obey, 
Doll  fometimes  counfel  take — and  fometimes  Tea. 

Hither 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK.  139 

Hither  the  heroes  and  the  nymphs  refort, 
To  tafte  a  while  the  pleafures  of  a  Court ; 
In  various  talk  th' inftru6live  hours  they  paft, 
Who  gave  the  ball,  or  paid  the  vifit  laft : 
One  fpeaks  the  glory  of  the  Brittfh  Queen, 
And  one  defcribes  a  charming  Indian  fcreen ; 
A  third  interprets  motions,  looks,  and  eyes ; 
At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies. 
Snuff,  or  the  fan,  fupply  each  paufe  of  chat, 
With  finging,  laughing,  ogling,  and  all  that. 

Mean  while  declining  from  the  noon  of  day, 
The  fun  obliquely  Ihoots  his  burning  ray ; 
The  hungry  Judges  foon  the  fentence  fign, 
And  wretches  hang  that  Jury-men  may  dine ; 
The  merchant  from  th*  Exchange  returns  in  peace, 
And  the  long  labours  of  the  Toilet  ceafe — 
Belinda  now,  whom  thirft  of  fame  invites, 
Burns  to  encounter  two  adventrous  Knights, 
At  Ombre  fingly  to  decide  their  doom ; 
And  fwells  her  breaft  with  conquefts  yet  to  come. 

T  2  Strait 


i+o  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

Strait  the  three  bands  prepare  in  arms  to  join, 
Each  band  the  number  of  the  facred  nine. 
Soon  as  fhe  fpreads  her  hand,  th'  aerial  guard 
Defcend,  and  fit  on  each  important  card : 
Firft  Ariel  perch 'd  upon  a  Matadore, 
Then  each,  according  to  the  rank  they  bore ; 
For  Sylphs,  yet  mindful  of  their  ancient  race, 
Are,  as  when  women,  wondrous  fond  of  place. 

Behold,  four  Kings  in  majefty  rever'd, 
With  hoary  whiskers  and  a  forky  beard  : 
And  four  fair  Queens  whofe  hands  fuftain  a  flow'r, 
Th'  expreflive  emblem  of  their  fofter  pow'r ; 
Four*  Knaves  in  garbs  fuccindt,  a  trufty  band, 
Caps  on  their  heads,  and  halberds  ill  their  hand; 
And  particolour'd  troops,  a  fhining  train, 
Draw  forth  to  combat  on  the  velvet  plain. 

The  skilful  nymph  reviews  her  force  with  care ; 
Let  Spades  be  trumps,  fhe  faid,  and  trumps  they  were. 

Now  move  to  war  her  fable  Matadores, 
In  lhow  like  leaders  of  the  fwarthy  Moors. 

Spctdittio 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  H, 

Spadittio  firft,  unconquerable  Lord! 
Led  off  two  captive  trumps,  and  fwept  the  board. 
As  many  more  ManiUio  forc'd  to  yield, 
And  niarch'd  a  viftor  from  the  verdant  field. 
Him  Bajio  follow'd,  but  his  fate  more  hard 
Gain'd  but  one  trump  and  one  Plebeian  card. 
With  his  broad  fabre  next,    a  chief  in  year% 
The  hoary  Majefty  of  Spades  appears ; 
Puts  forth  one  manly  leg,  to  fight  reveal'd ; 
The  reft,    his  many-colour'd  robe  conceal'd. 
The  rebel-Knave,  who  dares  his  prince  engage, 
Proves  the  juft  victim  of  his  royal  rage. 
Ev'n  mighty  Pam  that  Kings  and  Queens  overthrew. 
And  mow'd  down  armies  in  the  fights  of  Lu7 
Sad  chance  of  war !  now,  deftitute  of  aid, 
Falls  undiftinguifh'd  by  the  vi&or  Spade! 
Thus  far  both  armies  to  Belinda  yield ; 
Now  to  the  Baron  fate  inclines  the  field. 
His  warlike  Amazon  her  hoft  invades, 
Th'  imperial  confort  of  the  crown  of  Spades. 

The 


H2  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

The  Club's  black  Tyrant  firft  her  vi6Hm  dy'd, 
#  Spite  of  his  haughty  mien,  and  barb'rous  pride : 
What  boots  the  regal  circle  on  his  head, 
His  giant  limbs,  in  ftate  unwieldly  fpread ; 
That  long  behind  he  trails  his  pompous  robe, 
And,  of  all  monarchs,  only  grafps  the  globe  ? 
The  Baron  now  his  Diamonds  pours  apace ; 
Th'  embroider'd  King  who  lhows  but  half  his  face, 
And  his  refulgent  Queen,  with  pow'rs  combin'd, 
Of  broken  troops  an  eafy  conqueft  find. 
Clubs,  Diamonds,  Hearts,  in  wild  diforder  feen, 
With  throngs  promifcuous  ftrow  the  level  green. 
Thus  when  difpers'd  a  routed  army  runs, 
Of  AJufs  troops,  and  Afrits  fable  fons, 
With  like  confufion  different  nations  fly, 
In  various  habits,  and  of  various  dye, 
The  piere'd  battalions  dif-united  fall, 
In  heaps  on  heaps  ;  one  fate  o'erwhelms  them  all. 
The  Knave  of  Diamonds  tries  his  wily  arts, 
And  wins  (oh  fhameful-chance)  the  Queen  of  Hearts. 

At 


The   RAPE  of  the  LOCK.  143 

At  this,  the  blood  the  virgin's  cheek  forfook, 
A  livid  palenefs  fpreads  o'er  all  her  look ; 
She  fees,  and  trembles  at  th' approaching  ill, 
Juft  in  the  jaws  of  ruin,  and  Codille. 
And  now,  (as  oft'  in  fome  diftemper'd  ftate) 
On  one  nice  Trick  depends  the  gen'ral  fate. 
An  Ace  of  Hearts  fteps  forth :   The  King  unfeen 
Lurk'd  in  her  hand,  and  mourn'd  his  captive  Queen : 
He  fprings  to  vengeance  with  an  eager  pace, 
And  fells  like  thunder  on  the  proftrate  Ace. 
The  nymph  exulting  fills  with  fhouts  the  sky, 
The  walls,  the  woods,  and  long  canals  reply. 

Oh  thoughtlefs  mortals  !  ever  blind  to  fate, 
Too  foon  deje&ed,  and  too  foon  elate ! 
Sudden,   thefe  honours  fhall  be  fnatch'd  away, 
And  curs'd  for  ever  this  victorious  day. 

For  lo  !  the  board  with  cups  and  fpoons  is  crown'd, 
The  berries  crackle,  and  the  mill  turns  round : 
On  fhining  Altars  of  Japan  they  raife 
The  filver  lamp  ;    the  fiery  fpirits  bla£e  : 

5  From 


i+4  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

From  filver  fpouts  the  grateful  liquors  glide, 
And  China's  earth  receives  the  fmoking  tyde. 
At  once  they  gratify  their  fcent  and  tafte, 
While  frequent  cups  prolong  the  rich  repafte. 
Strait  hover  round  the  fair  her  airy  band  ; 
Some,  as  ihe  fipp'd,  the  fuming  liquor  fann'd, 
Some  o'er  her  lap  their  careful  plumes  difplay'd, 
Trembling,  and  confcious  of  the  rich  brocade. 
Coffee,  (which  makes  the  politician  wife, 
And  fee  thro'  all  things  with  his  half-fliut  eyes) 
Sent  up  in  vapours  to  the  Baron's  brain 
New  ftratagems,  the  radiant  Lock  to  gain. 
Ah  ceafe,  ralh  youth !  defift  e'er  'tis  too  late, 
Fear  the  juft  Gods,  and  think  of  *  Scytta's  fate ! 
Chang'd  to  a  bird,  and  fent  to  flit  in  air, 
She  dearly  pays  for  Nijus>  injur'd  hair ! 

But  when  to  mifchief  mortals  bend  their  will, 
How  foon  they  find  fit  inftruments  of  ill? 

*  Vide  Ovid.  Metam.  8. 

Juft 


The  RAPE  of  tie  LOCK  145 

Juft  then,  Clarijfa  drew  with  tempting  grace 
A  two-edg'd  weapon  from  her  fhining  cafe ; 
So  Ladies  in  Romance  aflift  their  Knight, 
Prefent  the  fpear,  and  arm  him  for  the  fight. 
He  takes  the  gift  with  reverence,  and  extends 
The  little  engine  on  his  finger's  ends : 
This  juft  behind  Belinda's  neck  he  fpread, 
As  o'er  the  fragrant  fteams  flie  bends  her  head. 
Swift  to  the  Lock  a  thoufand  Sprites  repair, 
A  thoufand  wings,  by  turns,  blow  back  the  hair ; 
And  thrice  they  twitch'd  the  diamond  in  her  ear ; 
Thrice  flie  look'd  back,  and  thrice  the  foe  drew  near. 
Juft  in  that  inftant,  anxious  Ariel  fought 
The  clofe  receffes  of  the  Virgin's  thought ; 
As  on  the  nofegay  in  her  breaft  reclin'd, 
He  watch'd  th'  Ideas  rifing  in  her  mind, 
Sudden  he  view'd,  in  fpite  of  all  her  art, 
An  earthly  Lover  lurking  at  her  heart. 
Amaz'd,  confus'd,  he  found  his  pow'r  expir'd, 
Refign'd  to  fate,  and  with  a  figh  retir'd. 

U  The 


i+*  The   RJ  P  E  of  the  LOCK 

The  Peer  now  fpreads  the  glittering  Fcrfex  wide, 
T'inclofe  the  Lock  ;    now  joins  it,  to  divide. 
Ev'n  then,  before  the  fatal  engine  closed, 
A  wretched  Sylph  too  fondly  interpos'd ; 
Fate  urg*d  the  fheers,  and  cut  the  Sylph  in  twain, 
(#But  airy  fubftance  foon  unites  again) 
The  meeting  points  the  facred  hair  diflever 
From  the  fair  head,  for  ever,  and  for  ever ! 

Then  flafh'd  the  living  lightnings  from  her  eyes> 
And  fcreams  of  horror  rend  thr  affrighted  skies. 
Not  louder  fhrieks  to  pitying  heav'n  are  call, 
When  husbands,  or  when  lapdogs  breathe  their  laft ; 
Or  when  rich  China  veffels,  fal'n  from  high, 
In  glittering  duft,  and  painted  fragments  lie! 

Let  wreaths  of  triumph  now  my  temples  twine, 
(The  vi&or  cry'd)  the  glorious  prize  is  mine ! 
While  filh  in  ftreams,  or  birds  delight  in  air, 
Or  in  a  Coach  and  fix,  the  Britijh  fair, 

*  See  Milton,  lib.  6.  of  Satan  cut  afunder  by  the  Jngel  Michael. 

As 


Th  RAPE  of  th  LOCK.  147 

As  long  as  Atahntis  ihall  be  read, 
Or  the  fmall  pillow  grace  a  Lady's  bed, 
While  vifits  lhall  be  paid  on  folemn  days, 
When  num'rous  wax-lights  in  bright  order  blafce, 
While  nymphs  take  treats,  or  affignations  give, 
So  long  my  honour,  name,  and  praife  lhall  live! 
What  Time  wou'd  fpare,  fromfteel  receives  its  date, 

And  monuments,  like  men,  fubmit  to  fate! 

Steel  could  the  labour  of  the  Gods  deftroy, 

And  ftrike  to  dull  th'  imperial  tow'rs  of  Troy ; 

Steel  could  the  works  of  mortal  pride  confound, 

And  hew  triumphal  arches  to  the  ground. 

What  wonder  then,  fair  nymph !  thy  hairs  fliou'd  feel 

The  conqu'ring  force  of  unrefifted  fteel  ? 


U  i  *"K 


m&m®&®®M&®m®m®m 


THE 


RAPE  of  the  LOCK 


CANTO     IV. 


|  UT  anxious  cares  the  penfive  nymph 
oppreft, 
And  fecret  paffions  laboured  in  her 
breaft. 

Not  youthful  Kings  in  battel  feiz'd  alive, 
Not  fcornful  virgins  who  their  charms  furvive, 
Not  ardent  lovers  robb'd  of  all  their  blifs, 
Not  ancient  ladies  when  refused  a  kifs, 
Not  tyrants  fierce  that  unrepenting  die, 
Not  Cynthia  when  her  Manteau's  pinn'd  awry, 

E'er 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK.  i49 

E'er  felt  fuch  rage,  refentment  and  defpair, 
As  thou,  fad  virgin !  for  thy  raviih'd  Hair. 

For,  that  fad  moment,  when  the  Sylphs  withdrew, 
And  Ariel  weeping  from  Belinda  flew, 
Urnhriel,  a.  dusky,  melancholy  fprite 
As  ever  fully'd  the  fair  face  of  light, 
Down  to  the  central  earth,  his  proper  fcene, 
Repairs  to  fearch  the  gloomy  cave  of  Spleen. 

Swift  on  his  footy  pinions  flits  the  Gnome, 
And  in  a  vapour  reach'd  the  difmal  dome. 
No  chearful  breeze  this  fullen  region  knows, 
The  dreaded  Eaft  is  all  the  wind  that  blows. 
Here,   in  a  grotto,   fheltred  clofe  from  air, 
And  fcreen'd  in  fhades  from  day's  detefted  glare, 
She  fighs  for  ever  on  her  penfive  bed, 
Pain  at  her  fide,  and  Megrim  at  her  head, 

Two  handmaids  wait  the  throne  :  alike  in  place, 
But  differing  far  in  figure  and  in  face. 
Here  flood  Ill-nature  like  an  ancient  maid, 
Her  wrinkled  form  in  black  and  white  array 'd ; 

With 


i5o  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

With  ftore  of  pray 'rs,  for  mornings,  nights,  and  noons, 
Her  hand  is  "filPd  ;    her  bofom  with  lampoons. 

There  Affeftation,  with  a  fickly  mien, 
Shows  in  her  cheek  the  rofes  of  eighteen, 
Pradis'd  to  lifp,  and  hang  the  head  afide, 
Faints  into  airs,  and  languifhes  with  pride  ; 
On  the  rich  quilt,  finks  with  becoming  woe, 
Wrapt  in  a  gown,  for  ficknefs,  and  for  fhow. 
The  fair  ones  feel  fuch  maladies  as  thefe, 
When  each  new  night-drefs  gives  a  new  difeafe. 

A  conftant  vapour  o'er  the  palace  flies ; 
Strange  phantoms  riling  as  the  mifts  arife ; 
Dreadful,  as  hermit's  dreams  in  haunted  fhades, 
Or  bright,  as  vifions  of  expiring  maids. 
Nowr  glaring  fiends,  and  fnakes  on  rolling  fpires, 
Pale  fpe&res,  gaping  tombs,  and  purple  fires: 
Now  lakes  of  liquid  gold,  Elyjtan  fcenes, 
And  cryftai  domes,  and  Angels  in  machines. 

Unnumber'd  throngs  on  ev'ry  fide  are  feen, 
Of  bodies  chang'd  to  various  forms  by  fpleen. 

.  Here 


m  RAPE  of  th  L  O  CK  *5i 

Here  living  Teapots  Hand,  one  arm  held  out, 
One  bent;    the  handle  this,  and  that  the  fpout: 
A  Pipkin  there  like  #  Homer's  Tripod  walks ; 
Here  fighs  a  Jar,  and  there  a  Goofe-pye  talks ; 
Men  prove  with  child,  as  pow'rful  fancy  works. 
And  maids  turn'd  bottles,  call  aloud  for  corks. 

Safe  part  the  Gnome  thro5  this  fantaftic  band, 
A  branch  of  healing  Spleenwort  in  his  hand. 
Then  thus  addrefs'd  the  pow'r— Hail  wayward  Queen ! 
Who  rule  the  fex  to  fifty  from  fifteen : 
Parent  of  vapours  and  of  female  wit, 
Who  give  th'  hyfteric,  or  poetic  fit, 
On  various  tempers  adt  by  various  ways, 
Make  fome  take  phyfic,  others  fcribble  plays ; 
Who  caufe  the  proud  their  vifits  to  delay, 
And  fend  the  godly  in  a  pett,  to  pray. 
A  nymph  there  is,  that  all  thy  pow'r  difdains, 
And  thoufands  more  in  equal  mirth  maintains. 

*  See  Horn.  Iliad  18,  of  Vulcan' s  walking  Tripods. 

But 


152  The   RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

But  oh  !  if  e'er  thy  Gnome  could  fpoil  a  grace, 
Or  raife  a  pimple  on  a  beauteous  face  ; 
Like  Citron-waters  matrons  cheeks  inflame, 
Or  change  complexions  at  a  lofing  game ; 
If  e'er  with  airy  horns  I  planted  heads, 
Or  rumpled  petticoats,  or  tumbled  beds, 
Or  caus'd  fufpicion  when  no  foul  was  rude, 
Or  difcompos'd  the  head-drefs  of  a  Prude, 
Or  e'er  to  coftive  lap-dog  gave  difeafe, 
Which  not  the  tears  of  brighteft  eyes  could  eafe : 
Hear  me,  and  touch  Belinda  with  chagrin; 
That  fingle  act  gives  half  the  world  the  fpleen. 

The  Goddefs  with  a  difcontented  air 
Seems  to  reje6l  him,  tho'  fhe  grants  his  pray'r. 
A  wondrous  bag  with  both  her  hands  lhe  binds, 
Like  that  where  once  Ulyjfes  held  the  winds ; 
There  fhe  collects  the  force  of  female  lungs, 
Sighs,  fobs,  and  paflions,  and  the  war  of  tongues. 
A  vial  next  fhe  fills  with  fainting  fears, 
Soft  forrows;  melting  griefs,  and  flowing  tears. 

The 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  153 

The  Gnome  rejoicing  bears  her  gift  away, 

Spreads  his  black  wings,  and  flowly  mounts  to  day : 

Sunk  in  Thaleflris'  arms  the  nymph  he  found, 
Her  eyes  deje6ted  and  her  hair  unbound. 
Full  o'er  their  heads  the  fwelling  bag  he  rent, 
And  all  the  furies  iflued  at  the  vent. 
Belinda  burns  with  more  than  mortal  ire, 
And  fierce  Thalejlris  fans  the  riling  fire. 
O  wretched  maid !  ihe  fpread  her  hands,  and  cry'd, 
(While  Hampton's  ecchos,  wretched  maid  reply'd) 
Was  it  for  this  you  took  fuch  conftant  care 
The  bodkin,  comb,  and  effence  to  prepare  ? 
For  this  your  Locks  in  paper  durance  bound, 
For  this  with  tort'ring  irons  wreathed  around  ? 
For  this  with  fillets  ftrain'd  your  tender  head, 
And  bravely  bore  the  double  loads  of  lead  ? 
Gods !  fliall  the  raviflier  difplay  your  hair, 
While  the  Fops  envy,  and  the  Ladies  flare  1 
Honour  forbid !  at  whofe  unrivaPd  fhrine 
Eafe,  pleafure,  virtue,  all,  our  fex  refign. 

X  Methinks 


154  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

Methinks  already  I  your  tears  furvey, 
Already  hear  the  horrid  things  they  fay, 
Already  fee  you  a  degraded  toaft, 
And  all  your  honour  in  a  whifper  loft ! 
How  lhall  I,  then,  your  helplefs  fame  defend  ? 
'Twill  then  be  infamy  to  feem  your  friend  ! 
And  lhall  this  prize,  th'  ineftimable  prize, 
Expos'd  thro5  cryftal  to  the  gazing  eyes> 
And  heightened  by  the  diamond's  circling  rays, 
On  that  rapacious  hand  for  ever  blaze? 
Sooner  fhall  grafs  in  Hyde-park  circus  grow, 
And  wits  take  lodgings  in  the  found  of  Bow; 
Sooner  let  earth,  air,  fea,  to  Chaos  fall, 
Men,  monkies,  lap-dogs,  parrots,  perifli  all ! 

She  faid  ;  then  raging  to  Sir  Plume  repairs, 
And  bids  her  Beau  demand  the  precious  hairs : 
(Sir  Plume,  of  amber  Snuff-box  juftly  vain, 
And  the  nice  condudt  of  a  clouded  Cane) 
With  earneft  eyes,  and  round  unthinking  face, 
He  firft  the  fnuff-box  open'd,  then  the  cafe, 

And 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  155 

And  thus  broke  out —  "  My  Lord,  why,  what  the  devil  ? 
"  Z — ds !  damn  the  Lock !  Yore  Gad,  you  muft  be  civil ! 
"  Plague  on't !  'tis  part  a  jeft — nay  prithee,  pox  ! 
"  Give  her  the  hair — he  fpoke,  and  rapp'd  his  box. 

It  grieves  me  much  (reply 'd  the  Peer  again) 
Who  fpeaks  fo  well  fliould  ever  fpeak  in  vain. 
But  *  by  this  Lock,  this  facred  Lock  I  fwear, 
(Which  never  more  ihall  join  its  parted  hair ; 
Which  never  more  its  honours  lhall  renew, 
Clip'd  from  the  lovely  head  where  late  it  grew) 
That  while  my  noftrils  draw  the  vital  air, 
This  hand,  which  won  ity  lhall  for  ever  wear. 
He  fpoke,  and  fpeaking,  in  proud  triumph  fpread 
The  long-contended  honours  of  her  head. 

But  Urnbriel,  hateful  Gnome  I  forbears  not  fo ; 
He  breaks  the  viol  whence  the  forrows  flow. 
Then  fee !  the  nymph  in  beauteous  grief  appears, 
Her  eyes  half  languiihing,  half  drownM  in  tears, 

*  la  allufion  to  Achilles';  oath  in  Homer.  //.  i . 

X  2  On 


15*  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

On  her  heav'd  bofom  hung  her  drooping  head, 
Which,  with  a  figh,  fhe  rais'd  ;  and  thus  fhe  faid. 

For  ever  curs'd  be  this  detefted  day, 
Which  fnatch'd  my  beft,  my  fav'rite  Curl  away ! 
Happy !  ah  ten  times  happy  had  I  beer>, 
If  Hampton-Court  thefe  eyes  had  never  feei>! 
Yet  am  not  I  the  firft  miftaken  maid, 
By  love  of  Courts  to  num'rous  ills  betray?d. 
Oh  had  I  rather  un-admir?d  remain 'd 
In  fome  lone  iile,  or  diftant  Northern  land ; 
Where  the  gilt  Chariot  never  marks  the  way, 
Where  none  learn  Ombre ,  none  e'er  tafte  Bohea  I 
There  kept  my  charms,  eonceaFd  from  mortal  eye 
Like  rofes  that  in  defarts  bloom  and  die. 
What:  mov'd  my  mind  with  youthful  Lords  to  rome  ? 
O  had  I  ftay'd,  and  faid  my  pray'rs  at  home ! 
*Twas  this,  the  morning  omens  feem'd  to  tell*; 
Thrice  from  my  trembling  hand  the  patch-box  fell ; 
The  tott'ring  China  fhook  without  a  wind, 
Nay,  Woll  late  mute,  and  Shock  was  moft  unkind! 

Sylph 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

A  Sylph  too  warn'd  me  of  the  threats  of  fate, 
In  myftic  vifions,  now  believ'd  too  late! 
See  the  poor  remnants  of  thefe  flighted  hairs ! 
My  hands  lhall  rend  what  ev'n  thy  rapine  fpares 
Thefe,  in  two  fable  ringlets  taught  to  break, 
Once  gave  new  beauties  to  the  fnowy  neck  -T 
The  fifter-lock  now  fits  uncouth,  alone,    r 
And  in  its  fellow's  fate  forefees  its  own ; 
UncurFd  it  hangs,  the  fatal  fheers  demands ; 
And  tempts  once  more  thy  facrilegious  hands. 
Oh  hadft  thou,  cruel !  been  content  to  feifce 
Hairs  lefs  in  fight,  or  any  hairs:  but  thefe ! 


157 


the; 


^^^$5$$85 


THE 


RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 


G  A  N  T  O     V. 


HE  faid:  the  pitying  audience  melt 

in  tears. 
But  Fate  and  Jove  had  ftopp'd  the 
Baron's  ears. 
In  vain  Thalejlris  with  reproach  afTails, 
For  who  can  move  when  fair  Belinda  fails  ? 
Not  half  fo  fix'd  the  Trojan  could  remain, 
While  Anna  begg'd  and  Dido  rag'd  in  vain. 
Then  grave  Clarijfa  graceful  wav'd  her  fan ; 
Silence  enfu'd,  and  thus  the  nymph  began. 

Say 


•• 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  15* 

Say  why  are  Beauties  prais'd  and  honoured  mofl, 
The  wife  man's  paflion,  and  the  vain  man's  toaft  ? 
Why  deck'd  with  all  that  land  and  fea  afford. 
Why  Angels  calPd,  and  Angel-like  ador'd  ? 
Why  round  our  Coaches  crowd  the  white  glov'd  Beau$> 
Why  bows  the  iide-box  from  its  inmoft  rows  ? 
How  vain  are  all  thefe  glories,  all  our  pains, 
Unlefs  good  fenfe  preferve  what  beauty  gains: 
That  men  may  fay,  when  we  the  front-box  grace^ 
Behold  the  firft  in  virtue,  as  in  face ! 
Oh !  if  to  dance  all  night,  and  drefs  all  day, 
Charm'd  the  fmall-pox,  or  chas'd  old  age  away ; 
Who  would  not  fcorn  what  hufwife's  cares  produce; 
Or  who  would  learn  one  earthly  thing  of  ule  ? 
To  patch,  nay  ogle,  might  become  a  Saint, 
Nor  could  it  fure  be  fuch  a  fin  to  paint. 
But  fince,  alas !  frail  beauty  muft  decay, 
Curl'd  or  uncurPd,  fince  Locks  will  turn  to  grey, 
Since  painted,  or  not  painted,  all  fhall  fade, 
And  flis  who  fcorns  a  man,  muft  die  a  maid  ; 

What 


{i6o  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK. 

What  then  remains,  but  well  our  pow'r  to  ufe, 
And  keep  good  humour  ftill  whate'er  we  lofe  ? 
And  truft  me,  dear!  good  humour  can  prevail, 
When  airs,  and  flights,  and  fcreams,  and  fcolding  fail. 
Beauties  in  vain  their  pretty  eyes  may  roll ; 
Charms  ftrike  the  fight,  but  merit  wins  the  foul. 

So  fpoke  the  Dame,  but  no  applaufe  enfu'd  ; 
Belinda  frown 'd,  Thaleftris  calPd  her  Prude. 
To  arms,  to  arms  !  the  fierce  Virago  cries, 
And  fwift  as  lightning  to  the  combate  flies. 
All  fide  in  parties,   and  begin  th'  attack ; 
Fans  clap,  filks  rufsle,  and  tough  whalebones  crack  ; 
Heroes  and  Heroins  fliouts  confus'dly  rife, 
And  bafe,  and  treble  voices  ftrike  the  skies. 
No  common  weapons  in  their  hands  are  found, 
Like  Gods  they  fight,  nor  dread  a  mortal  wound. 

#  So  when  bold  Homer  makes  the  Gods  engage, 
And  heav'nly  breafts  with  human  paflions  rage ; 

*  Homer,  //.  zo. 

'Gainft 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK.  1S1 

'Gainft  Pallas,  Mars ;   Latona,  Hermes  arms ; 
And  all  Olympus  rings  with  loud  alarms : 
Jove's  thunder  roars,  heav'n  trembles  all  around; 
Blue  Neptune  ftorms,  the  bellowing  deeps  refound ; 
Earth  fliakes  her  nodding  tow'rs,  the  ground  gives  way, 
And  the  pale  ghofts  ftart  at  the  flafti  of  day ! 

Triumphant  Umbriel  on  a  fconce's  height 
Clap'd  his  glad  wings,  and  fate  to  view  the  fight, 
Prop'd  on  their  bodkin  fpears,   the  Sprites  furvey 
The  growing  combat,  or  aflift  the  fray. 

While  thro5  the  prefs  enrag'd  Thaleftris  flies, 
And  fcatters  deaths  around  from  both  her  eyes, 
A  Beau  and  Witling  perifh'd  in  the  throng, 
One  dy'd  in  metaphor,  and  one  in  fong. 
O  cruel  nymph !  a  living  death  I  bear, 
Cry'd  Dapperwit,  and  funk  befide  his  chair. 
A  mournful  glance  Sir  Fopling  upwards  caft, 
*  Thofe  eyes  are  made  fo  killing — was  his  laft : 

*  A  Seng  in  the  Opera  of  Camilla. 

Y  Thus 


i62  The  RAPE  of  tie  LOCK. 

Thus  on  Meander's  flow'ry  margin  lies 

Th'  expiring  Swan,  and  as  he  fings  he  dies. 

When  bold  Sir  Plume  had  drawn  Clarijfa  down, 

Chloe  ftepp'd  in,  and  kill'd  him  with  a  frown ; 

She  fmil'd  to  fee  the  doughty  Hero  flain, 

But,  at  her  fmile,  the  Beau  reviv'd  again. 
*  Now  Jove  fufpends  his  golden  fcales  in  air, 

Weighs  the  Men's  wits  againft  the  Lady's  hair  ; 

The  doubtful  beam  long  nods  from  fide  to  fide ; 

At  length  the  wits  mount  up,  the  hairs  fubfide. 
See  fierce  Belinda  on  the  Baron  flies, 

With  more  than  ufual  lightning  in  her  eyes : 

Nor  fear'd  the  Chief  th'  unequal  fight  to  try, 
Who  fought  no  more  than  on  his  foe  to  die. 
But  this  bold  Lord  with  manly  ftrength  endu'd, 
She  with  one  finger  and  a  thumb  fubdu'd : 
Juft  where  the  breath  of  life  his  noftrils  drew, 
A  charge  of  Snuff  the  wily  virgin  threw  -7. 

*  Fid.  Homer  //.  8.  &?  Virg.  /En.  iz>. 

The 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  1*3 

The  Gnomes  diredl,  to  ev'ry  atome  juft, 
The  pungent  grains  of  titillating  duft. 
Sudden,  with  ftarting  tears  each  eye  o'erflows, 
And  the  high  dome  re-echoes  to  his  nofe. 

Now  meet  thy  fate,  incens'd  Belinda  cry'd, 
And  drew  a  deadly  bodkin  from  her  fide. 
(*  The  fame,  his  ancient  perfonage  to  deck, 
Her  great  great  grandfire  wore  about  his  neck 
In  three  feal-rings ;  which  after,  melted  down, 
Form'd  a  vaft  buckle  for  his  widow's  gown: 
Her  infant  grandame's  whittle  next  it  grew, 
The  bells  fhe  gingled,  and  the  whiftle  blew ; 
Then  in  a  bodkin  grac'd  her  mother's  hairs, 
Which  long  flie  wore,  and  now  Belinda  wears.) 

Boaft  not  my  fall  (he  cry'd)  infulting  foe ! 
Thou  by  fome  other  ftialt  be  laid  as  low. 
Nor  think,  to  die  deje6ls  my  lofty  mind  : 
All  that  I  dread  is  leaving  you  behind ! 

*  In  imitation  of  the  progrefs  of  Agamemnon'*  fceptrs  in  Homer,  IL  i. 

4  Y  2  Rather 


i*4  The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK 

Rather  than  fo,  ah  let  me  ftill  furvive, 

And  burn  in  Cupid's  flames, — but  burn  alive. 

Reftore  the  Lock  !  flie  crys ;  and  all  around 
Reftore  the  Lock !  the  vaulted  roofs  rebound. 
Not  fierce  Othello  in  fo  loud  a  ftrain 
Roar'd  for  the  handkerchief  that  caus'd  his  pain. 
But  fee  how  oft5  ambitious  aims  are  crofs'd, 
And  chiefs  contend  till  all  the  prize  is  loft ! 
The  Lock,  obtain'd  with  guilt,  and  kept  with  pain, 
In  ev'ry  place  is  fought,  but  fought  in  vain : 
With  fuch  a  prize  no  mortal  muft  be  bleft, 
So  heav'n  decrees !  with  heav'n  who  can  conteft  ? 

Some  thought  it  mounted  to  the  Lunar  fphere, 
*  Since  all  things  loft  on  earth  are  treafur'd  there. 
There  Hero's  wits  are  kept  in  pondrous  vafes, 
And  Beau's  in  fnufF-boxes  and  tweezer-cafes. 
There  broken  vows,  and  death-bed  alms  are  found, 
And  lover's  hearts  with  ends  of  riband  bound ; 

*  Fid,  Ariofto.  Canto  34. 

The' 


The  RAPE  of  the  LOCK  l6s 

The  courtier's  promifes,  and  fick  man's  pray'rs, 
The  fmiles  of  harlots,  and  the  tears  of  heirs, 
Cages  for  gnats,  and  chains  to  yoak  a  flea ; 
Dry'd  butterflies,  and  tomes  of  cafuiftry. 

But  truft  the  Mufe — flie  faw  it  upward  rife, 
Tho'  mark'd  by  none  but  quick,   poetic  eyes: 
(So  Rome's  great  founder  to  the  heav'ns  withdrew. 
To  Proculus  alone  confefs'd  in  view ) 
A  fudden  Star,  it  fhot  thro'  liquid  air, 
And  drew  behind  a  radiant  trail  of  hair. 
Not  Berenice's  Locks  firffc  rofe  ^o  bright, 
The  heav'ns  befpangling  with  diihevel'd  light, 

The  Sylphs  behold  it  kindling  as  it  flies, 

And  pleas'd  purfue  its  progrefs  thro'  the  skies. 
This  the  Beau-monde  fhall  from  the  Mall  furvey, 

And  hail  with  muflc  its  propitious  ray. 

This,  the  bleffc  Lover  fhall  for  Venus  take, 

And  fend  up  vows  from  RofarnondcCs  lake. 

This  Partridge  foon  ihall  view  in  cloudiefs  skies, 

When  next  he  looks  thro'  Galileo's  eyes ; 

And 


i66  The  RARE  of  the  LOCK 

And  hence  th'  egregious  wizard  fhall  foredoom 
The  fate  of  Louis,  and  the  fall  of  Rome. 

Then  ceafe,bright  nymph !  to  mourn  the  ravifh'd  hair, 
Which  adds  new  glory  to  the  fliining  fphere ! 
Not  all  the  trefles  that  fair  head  can  boaft, 
Shall  draw  fuch  envy  as  the  Lock  you  loft. 
For,  after  all  the  murders  of  your  eye, 
When,  after  millions  flain,  your  felf  fhall  die ; 
When  thofe  fair  funs  fhall  fet,  as  fet  they  muft, 
And  all  thofe  trefles  fhall  be  laid  in  duft ; 
This  Lock,  the  Mufe  fhall  confecrate  to  fame, 
And  'midft  the  ftars  inferibe  Belinda's  name ! 


THE 


****c*C!t^ifc^b**c*ifc*ifc*6t**CfewbCfc^i)fc* 


THE 


TEMPLE 


O  F 


FAME 


Written  in  the  Year  1 7  w. 


■ 


Advertifement 

THE  hint  of  the  following  piece  was 
taken  from  Chancers  Houfe  of 
Fame.  The  defign  is  in  a  manner  en- 
tirely alter  d,  the  defcriptions  and  moft 
of  the  particular  thoughts  my  own :  Yet 
I  could  not  fuffer  it  to  be  printed  with- 
out this  acknowledgment \  or  think  a  con- 
cealment of  this  nature  the  lefs  unfair 
for  being  common.  The  reader  who  would 
compare  this  with  Chaucer,  may  begin 
with  his  third  book  of  Fame,  there  be- 
ing nothing  in  the  two  firft  books  that 
anfwers  to  their  title. 


THE 


THE 


E  M  P  L  E 


O   F 


F    A 


N  that  foft  feafon  when  defcending 
fhow'rs 
Call  forth  the  greens,  and  wake  the 
rifing  flow'rs ; 
When  opening  buds  falute  the  welcome  day, 
And  earth  relenting  feels  the  genial  ray ; 
As  balmy  fleep  had  charm'd  my  cares  to  reft, 
And  love  itfelf  was  banifti'd  from  my  breaft, 

Z  2  (What 


172  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

(What  time  the  morn  myfterious  vifions  brings, 
While  purer  ilumbers  fpread  their  golden  wings) 
A  train  of  phantoms  in  wild  order  rofe, 
And,  join'd,  this  intellectual  fcene  compofe. 

I  flood,  methought,  betwixt  earth,  feas,  and  skies ;. 
The  whole  creation  open  to  my  eyes : 
In  air  felf-ballanc'd  hung  the  globe  below, 
Where  mountains  rife,  and  circling  oceans  flow  -y 
Here  naked  rocks,  and  empty  waftes  were  feen, 
There  tow'ry  cities,  and  the  forefts  green  : 
Here  failing  fhips  delight  the  wandering  eyes ; 
There  trees,  and  intermingl'd  temples  rife ; 
Now  a  clear  fun  the  fhining  fcene  difplays, 
The  tranfient  landfcape  now  in  clouds  decays. 

O'er  the  wide  profped  as  I  gaz'd  around, 
Sudden  I  heard  a  wild,  promifcuous  found, 
Like  broken  thunders  that  at  diftance  roar, 
Or  billows  murm'ring  on  the  hollow  fhoar : 
Then  gazing  up,  a  glorious  pile  beheld, 
Whofe  tow 'ring  fummit  ambient  clouds  conceal'd. 

High 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  173 

High  on  a  rock  of  ice  the  ftrudlure  lay, 
Steep  its  afcent,  and  flipp'ry  was  the  way ; 
The  wond'rous  rock  like  Parian  marble  fhone, 
And  feem'd,  to  diftarit  fight,  of  folid  ftone. 
Infcriptions  here  of  various  names  I  view'd, 
The  greater  part  by  hoftile  time  fubdu'd; 
Yet  wide  was  fpread  their  fame  in  ages  pall, 
And  Poets  once  had  promis'd  they  ihould  laft. 
Some  frelh  engrav'd  appear'd  of  Wits  renown'd  ; 
I  look'd  again,  nor  could  their  trace  be  found. 
Critics  I  law,  that  other  names  deface, 
And  fix  their  own,  with  labour,  in  their  place  r 
Their  own,  like  others,  foon  their  place  refign*d? 
Or  difappear'd,   and  left  the  firft  behind. 
Nor  was  the  work  impaired  by  ftorms  alone, 
But  felt  thr  approaches  of  too  warm  a  fun ; 
For  fame,  impatient  of  extreams,  decays 
Not  more  by  envy  than  excefs  of  praife. 
Yet  part  no  injuries  of  heav'n  could  feel> 
Like  cryftal  faithful  to  the  graving  fteel : 

The 


174  W  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

The  rock's  high  fummit,   in  the  temple's  fhade, 
Nor  heat  could  melt,  nor  beating  ftorm  invade. 
There  names  infcrib'd  unnumber'd  ages  paft 
From  time's  firft  birth,  with  time  itfelf  fhall  laft  \ 
Thefe  ever  new,  nor  fubje&  to  decays, 
Spread,  and  grow  brighter  with  the  length  of  days. 

So  ZembWs  rocks  (the  beauteous  work  of  froft) 
Rife  white  in  air,  and  glitter  o'er  the  coaft  • 
Pale  Suns,  unfelt,  at  diftance  roll  away, 
And  on  th'  impaffive  ice  the  lightnings  play ; 
Eternal  fnows  the  growing  mafs  fupply, 
Till  the  bright  mountains  prop  th'  incumbent  sky : 
As  Atlas  fix'd,  each  hoary  pile  appears, 
The  gather'd  winter  of  a  thoufand  years 

On  this  foundation  Fame's  high  temple  ftands ; 
Stupendous  pile !  not  rear'd  by  mortal  hands. 
Whate'er  proud  Rome,  or  artful  Greece  beheld, 
Or  elder  Babylon,  its.  frame  excelPd. 
Four  faces  had  the  dome,  and  ev'ry  face 
Of  various  ftru<5ture,  but  of  equal  grace  : 

Four 


The  TEMPL  E  of  FA  M  E.  17? 

Four  brazen  gates,  on  columns  lifted  high, 
Salute  the  different  quarters  of  the  sky. 
Here  fabled  Chiefs  in  darker  ages  born, 
Or  worthies  old,  whom  arms  or  arts  adorn, 
Who  cities  rais'd,  or  tam'd  a  monftrous  race ; 
The  fourfold  walls  in  breathing  ftatues  grace : 
Heroes  in  animated  marble  frown, 
And  Legiflators  feem  to  think  in  ftone. 

Weftward,  a  fumptuous  frontifpiece  appear'd? 
On  Doric  pillars  of  white  marble  rear'd, 
Crown'd  with  an  architrave  of  antique  mold, 
And  fculpture  riling  on  the  roughen'd  gold. 
In  fliaggy  fpoils  here  Thefeus  was  beheld, 
And  Perfeus  dreadful  with  Minerva's  fhield : 
There  great  Alcides  Hooping  with  his  toil, 
Refts  on  his  club,  and  holds  t\i  Hefperian  fpoil. 
Here  Orpheus  fings;  trees  moving  to  the  found 
Start  from  their  roots,  and  form  a  fhade  around!:: 
Aynphion  there  the  loud  creating  lyre 
Strikes,  and  beholds  a  fudden  Thebes  afpire; 

CytBaron\> 


n6  The   TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

Cytharorfs  echoes  anfwer'd  to  his  call, 
And  half  the  mountain  rolPd  into  a  wall : 
There  might  you  fee  the  lengthening  fpires  afcend, 
The  domes  fwell  up,  the  widening  arches  bend, 
The  growing  tow'rs  like  exhalations  rife, 
And  the  huge  columns  heave  into  the  skies. 
The  Eaftern  front  was  glorious  to  behold, 
With  diamond  flaming,  and  Barbaric  gold. 
There  Ninus  fhone,  who  fpread  th' yijfyrian  fame, 
And  the  great  founder  of  the  Perjian  name : 
There  in  long  robes  the  royal  Magi  ftand, 
Grave  Zoroajler  waves  the  circling  wand : 
The  fage  Chaldaans  rob'd  in  white  appear 'd, 
And  Brachmans,  deep  in  defart  woods  rever'd. 
Thefe  ftop'd  the  moon,  and  call'd  th'unbody'd  ihades 
To  midnight  banquets  in  the  glimmering  glades  ; 
Made  vifionary  fabricks  round  them  rife, 
And  airy  fpedres  skim  before  their  eyes  ; 
Of  Talifmans  and  Sigils  knew  the  pow'r, 
And  careful  watch'd  the  Planetary  hour. 

z  Superior, 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  177 

Superior,  and  alone,  Confucius  flood, 

Who  taught  that  ufeful  fcience,  to  be  good. 

But  on  the  fouth,  a  long,  majeftic  race 
Of  Egypt's  Priefts  the  gilded  niches  grace, 
Who  meafur'd  earth,  defcrib'd  the  ftarry  fpheres, 
And  trac'd  the  long  records  of  lunar  years. 
High  on  his  car  Sefojiris  ftruck  my  view, 
Whom  fcepter'd  Haves  in  golden  harnefs  drew : 

*  His  hands  a  bow  and  pointed  javelin  hold ; 

His  giant  limbs  are  arm'd  in  fcales  of  gold. 

Between  the  ftatues  obelisks  were  plac'd, 

And  the  learn'd  walls  with  hieroglyphics  grac'd. 
Of  Gothic  ftru&ure  was  the  northern  fide, 

O'er-wrought  with  ornaments  of  barb'rous  pride. 

There  huge  colofles  rofe,  with  trophies  crown'd, 

And  Runic  characters  were  grav'd  around. 

There  fate  Zamolxis  \  with  ere6ted  eyes, 

And  Odin  ^  here  in  mimic  trances  dies. 

*  Herodotus  /.  i.  defer ibes  a  Jlatue  of  Sefoftris  in  this  manner^  which  remained  in  his 
own  time. 

-f-  Zamolxis  was  the  difciple  of  Pythagoras,  who  firfi  taught  the  immortality  of  the 
ful  to  the  Scythians. 

I  Odin  or  Woden,  the  great  Legijlator  of  the  Goths,  who  being  fubjeSt  to  fits^  per- 
ft.aded  his  followers  that  during  thofe  trances  he  reeeiv'd  bis  Laws  by  infpiration. 

A  a  There, 


178  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

There  on  rude  iron  columns  fmear'd  with  blocd, 
The  horrid  forms  of  Scythian  heroes  flood, 
Druids  and  Bards  (their  once  loud  harps  unftrung) 
And  youths  that  dy'd  to  be  by  Poets  fung. 
Thefe  and  a  thoufand  more  of  doubtful  fame, 
To  whom  old  fables  gave  a  lafting  name, 
In  ranks  adorn'd  the  temple's  outward  face ; 
The  wall  in  luftre  and  effect  like  glafs, 
Which  o'er  each  object  carting  various  dies, 
Enlarges  fome,  and  others  multiplies. 
Nor  void  of  emblem  was  the  myftic  wall, 
For  thus  romantic  fame  increafes  all. 

The  temple  fhakes,  the  founding  gates  unfold, 
AYide  vaults  appear,  and  roofs  of  fretted  gold : 
Rais'd  on  a  thoufand  pillars,  wreath 'd  around 
With  lawrel-foliage,  and  with  eagles  crown'd : 
Of  bright,  tranfparent  beryl  were  the  walls, 
The  freezes  gold,  and  gold  the  capitals : 
As  heav'n  with  ftars,  the  roof  with  jewels  glows, 
And  ever-living  lamps  depend  in  rows. 

3  Full 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  i19 

Full  in  the  paflage  of  each  fpacious  gate, 

The  fage  Hiftorians  in  white  garments  wait ; 

Grav'd  o'er  their  feats,  the  form  of  Time  was  found, 

His  fey  the  revers'd,  and  both  his  pinions  bound. 

Within,  flood  heroes  who  thro5  loud  alarms 

In  bloody  fields  purfu'd  renown  in  arms. 

High  orf  a  throne  with  trophies  charg'd,  I  view'd 

The  *  youth  that  all  things  but  himfelf  fubdu'd ; 

His  feet  on  fceptres  and  Tiara's  trod, 

And  his  horn'd  head  exprefs'd  the  Lyhian  God. 

There  Ccejar,  grae'd  with  both  Minerva's,  Jhone ; 

Ccejar,  the  world's  great  mafler,  and  his  own ; 

Unmov'd,  fuperior  (till  in  ev'ry  flate, 

And  fcarce  detefted  in  his  country's  fate. 

But  chief  were  thofe  who  not  for  empire  fought, 

But  with  their  toils  their  people's  fafety  bought : 

High  o'er  the  reft  Epaminondas  flood  ; 

Timoleon,  glorious  in  his  brother's  blood ; 


*  Alexander  the  Great  caused  himfelf  to  be  reprcfented  in  his  coins  with  horns  on  his 
head,  as  the  [on  of  Jupiter  Amnion. 

A  a  2  Bold 


i8o  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

Bold  Scipio,  faviour  of  the  Roman  ftate, 
Great  in  his  triumphs,  in  retirement  great. 
And  wife  Aurelius,  in  whofe  well-taught  mind       } 
With  boundlefs  pow'r  unbounded  virtue  join'd,     y 
His  own  flriv5t  judge,  and  patron  of  mankind.      ) 

Much-fufFring  heroes  next  their  honours  claim, 
Thofe  of  lefs  noify,  and  lefs  guilty  fame, 
Fair  virtue's  filent  train :    fupreme  of  thefe 
Here  ever  lhines  the  godlike  Socrates : 
#  He  whom  ungrateful  Athens  could  expell, 
At  all  times  juft,  but  when  he  fign'd  the  lhell. 
Here  his  abode  the  martyr'd  Phocion  claims, 
With  Agis,  not  the  laft  of  Spartan  names : 
Unconquer'd  Cato  fliews  the  wound  he  tore, 
And  Brutus  his  ill  Genius  meets  no  more. 

But  in  the  centre  of  the  hallow'd  quire, 
Six  pompous  columns  o*er  the  reft  afpire; 
Around  the  fhrine  itfelf  of  Fame  they  ftand, 
Hold  the  chief  honours,  and  the  fane  command. 


*  Ariftides.     Fid.  Plutarch,, 


High 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  181 

High  on  the  firft,  the  mighty  Homer  fhone ; 
Eternal  Adamant  compos'd  his  throne ; 
Father  of  verfe !  in  holy  fillets  dreft, 
His  filver  beard  wav'd  gently  o'er  his  breaft ; 
Tho'  blind,  a  boldnefs  in  his  looks  appears; 
In  years  he  feem'd,  but  not  impaired  by  years. 
The  wars  of  Troy  were  round  the  pillar  feen : 
Here  fierce  Tydides  wounds  the  Cyprian  Queen : 
Here  Heftor  glorious  from  Patroclus  fall, 
Here  dragged  in  triumph  round  the  Trojan  wall 
Motion  and  life  did  ev'ry  part  infpire, 
Bold  was  the  work,  and  proved  the  mafter's  fire ; 
A  ftrong  expreffion  moft  he  feem'd  t'afFe&, 
And  here  and  there  difclos'd  a  brave  negledl. 
A  golden  column  next  in  rank  appear'd, 
On  which  a  ihrine  of  pureft  gold  was  reared  ^ 
Finifh'd  the  whole,  and  laboured  ev'ry  part, 
With  patient  touches  of  unweary'd  art : 
The  Mantuan  there  in  fober  triumph  fate, 
Composed  his  pofture,  and  his  look  fedate  ;. 

Ob 


182  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

On  Homer  ftill  he  fix'd  a  rev'rend  eye, 
Great  without  pride,  in  modeft  majefty. 
In  living  fculpture  on  the  fides  were  fpread 
The  Latian  wars,  and  haughty  Turnus  dead ; 
Eliza  ftretch'd  upon  the  fun'ral  pyre, 
Alneas  bending  with  his  aged  fire : 
Troy  flam'd  in  burnifh'd  gold,  and  o'er  the  throne 
Arms  and  the  Man  in  golden  cyphers  flione. 
Four  fwans  fuftain  a  car  of  filver  bright, 
With  heads  advanc'd,  and  pinions  ftretch'd  for  flight: 
Here,  like  fome  furious  prophet,  Pindar  rode, 
And  feem'd  to  labour  with  th'  infpiring  God. 
Acrofs  the  harp  a  carelefs  hand  he  flings, 
And  boldly  finks  into  the  founding  firings. 
The  figur'd  games  of  Greece  the  column  grace, 
Neptune  and  Jove  furvey  the  rapid  race : 
The  youths  hang  o'er  their  chariots  as  they  run ; 
The  fiery  fteeds  feem  ftarting  from  the  ftone; 
The  champions  in  diftorted  poftures  threat ; 
And  all  appear'd  irregularly  great. 

Here 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  183 

Here  happy  Horace  tun'd  th'Aufonian  lyre 
To  fweeter  founds,  and  temper  5d  Pindar's  fire : 
Pleas 'd  with  Alcaus*  manly  rage  t'infufe 
The  fofter  fpirit  of  the  Sapbic  Mufe. 
The  polifh'd  pillar  different  fculptures  grace ; 
A  work  outlawing  monumental  brafs. 
Here  fmiling  Loves  and  Bacchanals  appear, 
The  Julian  ftar  and  great  Auguftus  here. 
The  #  doves  that  round  the  infant  Poet  fpread 
Myrtles  and  bays,  hung  hov'ring  o'er  his  head. 

Here  in  a  fhrine  that  caft  a  dazling  light, 
Sate  fix'd  in  thought  the  mighty  Stagyrite ; 
His  facred  head  a  radiant  Zodiack  crown'd, 
And  various  animals  his  fides  furround ; 
His  piercing  eyes,  ere6t,  appear  to  view 
Superior  worlds,  and  look  all  nature  thro'. 

With  equal  rays  immortal  Tutty  flione, 
The  Roman  Roftra  deck'd  the  ConfuPs  throne : 


*  Fid.  Horat,  lib.  3.  Ode  4, 


Gathering 


i8+  The   TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

Gath'ring  his  flowing  robe,  he  feem'd  to  ftand, 
In  a6t  to  fpeak,   and  graceful  ftretch'd  his  hand  : 
Behind,  Rome's  Genius  waits  with  Civic  crowns, 
And  the  great  father  of  his  country  owns. 
Thefe  mafly  columns  in  a  circle  rife, 

i 

O'er  which  a  pompous  dome  invades  the  skies : 
Scarce  to  the  top  I  ftretch'd  my  aking  fight, 
So  large  it  fpread,  and  fwelPd  to  fuch  a  height. 
Full  in  the  midft  proud  Fame's  imperial  feat 
With  jewels  blaz'd,  magnificently  great ; 
The  vivid  em'ralds  there  revive  the  eye, 
The  flaming  rubies  fliew  their  fanguine  dye, 
Bright  azure  rays  from  lively  faphyrs  ftream, 
And  lucid  amber  calls  a  golden  gleam. 
With  various-col  our 'd  light  the  pavement  flione, 
And  all  on  fire  appear'd  the  glowing  throne ; 
The  dome's  high  arch  reflects  the  mingled  blaze, 
And  forms  a  rainbow  of  alternate  rays. 
When  on  the  Goddefs  firft  I  caft  my  fight, 
Scarce  feem'd  her  ftature  of  a  cubit's  height, 

But 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  185 

But  fwell'd  to  larger  fize,  the  more  I  gafc'd, 
Till  to  the  roof  her  tow'ring  front  lhe  rais'd. 
With  her,  the  Temple  ev'ry  moment  grew, 
And  ampler  Jfiftcfs  open'd  to  my  view, 
Upward  the  columns  fhoot,  the  roofs  afcend, 
And  arches  widen,  and  long  iles  extend. 
Such  was  her  form,  as  ancient  Bards  have  told, 
Wings  raife  her  arms,  and  wings  her  feet  infold ; 
A  thoufand  bufy  tongues  the  Goddefs  bears, 
And  thoufand  open  eyes,  and  thoufand  lift'ning  ears. 
Beneath,  in  order  rang'd,  the  tuneful  Nine 
(Her  virgin  handmaids)  ftill  attend  the  fhrine : 
With  eyes  on  Fame  for  ever  fix'd,  they  fing ; 
For  Fame  they  raife  the  voice,  and  tune  the  firing; 
With  time's  firft  birth  began  the  heav'nly  lays, 
And  laft,  eternal,  thro'  the  length  of  days. 

Around  thefe  wonders  as  I  call  a  look, 
The  trumpet  founded,  and  the  temple  lhook, 
And  all  the  nations,  fummon'd  at  the  call, 

From  diff'rent  quarters  fill  the  crowded  hall : 

Bb  Of 


186  The  TEMPLE  of  FA  M E. 

Of  various  tongues  the  mingled  founds  were  heard ; 
In  various  garbs  promifcuous  throngs  appear'd ;. 
Thick  as  the  bees,  that  with  the  fpring  renew 
Their  flow'ry  toils,  and  fip  the  fragrant  dew, 
When  the  wing'd  colonies  firft  tempt  the  sky, 
O'er  dusky  fields  and  lhaded  waters  fly, 
Or  fettling,  feize  the  fweets  the  bloflbms  yields 
And  a  low  murmur  runs  along  the  field. 
Millions  of  fuppliant  crowds  the  ftirine  attend^ 
And  all  degrees  before  the  Goddefs  bend ; 
The  poor,  the  rich,  the  valiant,  and  the  fage,. 
And  boafting  youth,  and  narrative  old-age. 
Their  pleas  were  different,  their  requeft  the  fame  \ 
For  good  and  bad  alike  are  fond  of  fame. 
Some  Ihe  difgrac'd,  and  fome  with  honours  crown'd ; 
Unlike  fuccefles  equal  merits  found. 
Thus  her  blind  filler,  fickle  Fortune  reigns, 
And  undifcerning,  fcatters  crowns  and  chains^ 

Firft  at  the  flirine  the  Learned  world  appear, 
And  to  the  Goddefs  thus  prefer  their  pray'r: 

Long 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  187 

Uong  have  we  fought  t'inftrudt  and  pleafe  mankind, 
With  ftudies  pale,  with  midnight  vigils  blind ; 
But  thank'd  by  few,  rewarded  yet  by  none7 
We  here  appeal  to  thy  fuperior  throne : 
On  wit  and  learning  the  juft  prize  bellow, 
For  Fame  is  all  we  muft  expe6l  below. 

The  Goddefs  heard,  and  bade  the  Mufes  raife 
The  golden  trumpet  of  eternal  praife : 
From  pole  to  pole  the  winds  diffufe  the  found, 
That  fills  the  circuit  of  the  world  around ; 
Not  all  at  once,  as  thunder  breaks  the  cloud ; 
The  notes  at  firft  were  rather  fweet  than  loud : 
By  juft  degrees  they  ev'ry  moment  rife, 
Fill  the  wide  earth,  and  gain  upon  the  skies. 
At  ev'ry  breath  were  balmy  odours  fhed, 
Which  ftill  grew  fweeter  as  they  wider  fpread : 
Lefs  fragrant  fcents  th'  unfolding  rofe  exhales, 
Or  fpices  breathing  in  Arabian  gales. 

Next  thefe  the  good  and  juft,  an  awful  train, 
Thus  on  their  knees  addrefs'd  the  facred  fane. 

B  b  2  Since 


i88  The  TEMPLE  of  FA  MR 

Since  living  virtue  is  with  envy  curft, 
And  the  beft  men  are  treated  like  the  worft, 
Do  thou,  juft  Goddefs,  call  our  merits  forth, 
And  give  each  deed  th'  exa&,  intrinfic  worth. 
Not  with  bare  juftice  fliall  your  a6t  be  crown'd, 
(Said  Fame)  but  high  above  defer t  renown'd  : 
Let  fuller  notes  th' applauding  world  ama^e, 
And  the  loud  clarion  labour  in  your  praife. 
This  band  difmifs'd,  behold  another  crowd 
Prefer 'd  the  fame  requeft,  and  lowly  bow'd ; 
The  conftant  tenour  of  whofe  well  fpent  days 
No  lefs  deferv'd  a  juft  return  of  praife. 
But  ftrait  the  direful  trump  of  flander  founds ; 
Thro'  the  big  dome  the  doubling  thunder  bounds^ 
Loud  as  the  burft  of  cannon  rends  the  skies, 
The  dire  report  thro'  ev'ry  region  flies  : 
In  ev'ry  car  inceflant  rumours  rung, 
And  gath'ring  fcandals  grew  on  ev'ry  tongue. 
From  the  black  trumpet's  rufty  concave  broke 
Sulphureous  flames,  and  clouds  of  rolling  fmoke : 

The 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  i% 

The  pois'nous  vapor  blots  the  purple  skies, 
And  withers  all  before  it  as  it  flies. 

A  troop  came  next,  who  crowns  and  armour  wore,. 
And  proud  defiance  in  their  looks  they  bore : 
For  thee  (they  cry'd)  amidft  alarms  and  ffcrife, 
We  fail'd  in  tempefts  down  the  ftream  of  life ; 
For  thee  whole  nations  filPd  with  flames  and  blood7 
And  fwam  to  empire  thro'  the  purple  flood. 
Thofe  ills  we  dar'd,  thy  infpiration  own, 

What  virtue  feem'd,  was  done  for  thee  alone. 
Ambitious  fools !  (the  Queen  reply'd,  and  frown?d)» 
Be  all  your  a6ts  in  dark  oblivion  drown'd ; 
There  fleep  forgot,  with  mighty  tyrants  gone, 
Your  ftatues  moulder 'd,  and  your  names  unknown;. 
A  fudden  cloud  ftrait  fnatch'd  them  from  my  fight, 
And  each  majeftic  phantom  funk  in  night. 

Then  came  the  fmalleft  tribe  I  yet  had  feen ; 
Plain  was  their  drefs,  and  modeft  was  their  mien; 
Great  idol  of  mankind !  we  neither  claim 
The  praife  of  merit,  nor  afpire  to  fame  ! 


i  jo  The  TEM1>  LE  of  FA  M  E. 

But  fafe  in  defarts  from  th'  applaufe  of  men, 
Would  die  unheard  of,  as  we  Iiv'd  unfeen. 
Tis  all  we  beg  thee,  to  conceal  from  fight 
Thofe  acts  of  goodnefs,  which  themfelves  requite. 
O  let  us  ftill  the  fecret  joy  partake, 
To  follow  virtue  ev'n  for  virtue's  fake. 

And  live  there  men  who  flight  immortal  fame? 
Who  then  with  incenfe  ftiall  adore  our  name  ? 
But  mortals !  know,  'tis  ftill  our  greateft  pride 
To  blafce  thofe  virtues  which  the  good  would  hide. 
Rife !  Mufes,  rife  !  add  all  your  tuneful  breath, 
Thefe  muft  not  fleep  in  darknefs  and  in  death. 
She  faid :    in  air  the  trembling  mufic  floats, 
And  on  the  winds  triumphant  fwcll  the  notes ; 
So  foft,  tho'  high,  fo  loud,  and  yet  fo  clear, 
Ev'n  lift'ning  Angels  lean'd  from dieav'n  to  hear: 
To  fartheft  ftiores  th'  ambrofial  fpirit  flies, 
Sweet  to  the  world,  and  grateful  to  the  skies. 

Next  thefe  a  youthful  train  their  vows  exprefs'd, 
With  feathers  xrown'd,  with  gay  embroid'ry  drefs'd; 
t  Hither, 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  191 

Hither,  they  cry'd,  dire6i  your  eyes,  and  fee 
The  men  of  pleafure,  drefs,  and  gallantry  : 
Ours  is  the  place  at  banquets,  balls  and  plays; 
Sprightly  our  nights,  polite  are  all  our  days  ; 
Courts  we  frequent,  where  'tis  our  pleafing  care 
To  pay  due  vifits,  and  addrefs  the  fair : 
In  fad:,  'tis  true,  no  nymph  we  could  perfuade, 
But  ftill  in  fancy  vanquifti'd  ev'ry  maid ; 
Of  unknown  Dutcheffes  leud  tales  we  tell, 
Yet  would  the  world  believe  us,  all  were  well. 
The  joy  let  others  have,  and  we  the  name, 
And  what  we  want  in  pleafure,  grant  in  fame. 

The  Queen  aflents,  the  trumpet  rends  the  skies, 
And  at  each  blaft  a  Lady's  honour  dies. 

Pleas'd  with  the  ftrange  fuccefs,  vaft  numbers  preft 
Around  the  fhrine,  and  made  the  fame  requeft : 
What  you  (fhe  cry'd)  unlearn'd  in  arts  to  pleafe, 
Slaves  to  your  felves,  and  ev'n  fatigu'd  with  eafe, 
Who  lofe  a  length  of  undeferving  days ; 
Would  you  ufurp  the  lover's  dear-bought  praife  ? 

To 


192  The   TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

To  juft  contempt,  ye  vain  pretenders,  fall, 
The  peoples  fable,  and  the  fcorn  of  all. 
Strait  the  black  clarion  fends  a  horrid  found, 
Loud  laughs  burft  out,  and  bitter  feoffs  fly  round, 
Whifpers  were  heard,  with  taunts  reviling  loud, 
And  fcornful  hiffes  ran  thro'  all  the  croud. 

Laft,  thofe  who  boafl:  of  mighty  mifchiefs  done, 
Enflave  their  country,  or  ufurp  a  throne  ; 
Or  who  their  glory's  dire  foundation  lay'd, 
On  Sov'reigns  ruin'd,  or  on  friends  betray'd : 
Calm,  thinking  villains,  whom  no  faith  can  fix, 
Of  crooked  counfels  and  dark  politicks ; 
Of  thefe,  a  gloomy  tribe  furround  the  throne, 
And  beg  to  make  th'  immortal  treafons  known. 
The  trumpet  roars,  long  flaky  flames  expire, 
With  fparks,  that  feem'd  to  fet  the  world  on  fire. 
At  the  dread  found,  pale  mortals  ftood  aghaft, 
And  ilartled  nature  trembled  with  the  blaft. 

This  having  heard  and  feen,  fome  pow'r  unknown 
Strait  chang'd  the  fcene;and  fnatch'd  me  from  the  throne. 

2  Before 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  153 

Before  my  view  appeared  a  ftrudture  fair, 

Its  fite  uncertain,  if  m  earth  or  air ; 

With  rapid  motion  turn'd  the  manfion  round  ; 

With  ceaflefs  noife  the  ringing  walls  refound  : 

Not  lefs  in  number  were  the  fpacious  doors, 

Than  leaves  on  trees,  or  fands  upon  the  fhores ; 

Which  ftill  unfolded  ftand,  by  night,  by  day, 

Pervious  to  winds,  and  open  ev'ry  way. 

As  flames  by  nature  to  the  skies  afcend, 

As  weighty  bodies  to  the  centre  tend, 

As  to  the  fea  returning  rivers  roll, 

And  the  touched  needle  trembles  to  the  pole : 

Hither,  as  to  their  proper  place,  arife 

All  various  founds  from  earth,  and  feas,  and  skies, 

Or  fpoke  aloud,  or  whifper'd  in  the  ear ; 

Nor  ever  filence,  reft,  or  peace  is  here. 

As  on  the  fmooth  expanfe  of  cryftal  lakes, 

The  finking  ftone  at  firft  a  circle  makes ; 

The  trembling  furface,  by  the  motion  ftir'd, 

Spreads  in  a  fecond  circle,  then  a  third  ; 

C  c  Wide, 


i$+  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

Wide,  and  more  wide,  the  floating  rings  advance, 
Fill  all  the  wat'ry  plain,  and  to  the  margin  dance. 
Thus  ev'ry  voice  and  found,  when  firft  they  break, 
On  neighboring  air  a  foft  impreflion  make ; 
Another  ambient  circle  then  they  move ; 
That,  in  its  turn,  impels  the  next  above ; 
Thro'  undulating  air  the  founds  are  fent, 
And  fpread  o'er  all  the  fluid  element. 

There  various  news  I  heard,  of  love  and  ftrife, 
Of  peace  and  war,  health,  ficknefs,  death,  and  life, 
Of  lofs  and  gain,  of  famine  and  of  ftore, 
Of  ftorms  at  fea,  and  travels  on  the  fhore, 
Of  prodigies,  and  portents  feen  in  air, 
Of  fires  and  plagues,  and  ftars  with  blading  hair, 
Of  turns  of  fortune,  changes  in  the  ftate, 
The  falls  of  fav  rites,  projects  of  the  great. 
Of  old  mifmanagements,  taxations  new—— 
All  neither  wholly  falfe,  nor  wholly  true. 

Above,  below,  without,  within,  around, 
Confus'd,  unnumbered  multitudes  are  found, 

Who 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  19$ 

Who  pafs,  repafs,  advance,  and  glide  away ; 
Hofts  rais'd  by  fear,  and  phantoms  of  a  day : 
Aftrologers,  that  future  fates  forefhew, 
Projectors,  quacks,  and  lawyers  not  a  few ; 
And  priefts,  and  party-izealots,  num'rous  bands 
With  home-born  lyes,  or  tales  from  foreign  lands ; 
Each  talk'd  aloud,  or  in  fome  fecret  place, 
And  wild  impatience  flar'd  in  ev'ry  face. 
The  flying  rumors  gather 'd  as  they  rolPd, 
Scarce  any  tale  was  fooner  heard  than  told ; 

i 

In  ev'ry  ear  it  fpread,  on  ev'ry  tongue  it  grew.    ) 
Thus  flying  eaft  and  weft,  and  north  and  fouth, 
News  travell'd  with  encreafe  from  mouth  to  mouth. 
So  from  a  fpark,  that  kindled  firft  by  chance, 
With  gathering  force  the  quick'ning  flames  advance  ; 
Till  to  the  clouds  their  curling  heads  afpire, 
And  tow'rs  and  temples  link  in  floods  of  fire. 

C  c  2  When 


And  all  who  told  it,  added  fomething  new, 
And  all  who  heard  it,  made  enlargements  too, 


i96  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

When  thus  ripe  lyes  are  to  perfection  fprung, 
Full  grown,  and  fit  to  grace  a  mortal  tongue, 
Thro'  thoufand  vents,  impatient  forth  they  flow, 
And  rufli  in  millions  on  the  world  below. 
Fame  fits  aloft,  and  points  them  out  their  courfe, 
Their  date  determines,  and  prefcribes  their  force  : 
Some  to  remain,  and  fome  to  perifh  foon ; 
Or  wane  and  wax  alternate  like  the  moon. 
Around,  a  thoufand  winged  wonders  fly, 
Born  by  the  trumpet's  blaft,and  fcatter'd  thro' the  sky. 

There,  at  one  paflage,  oft'  you  might  furvey 
A  lye  and  truth  contending  for  the  way ; 
And  long  'twas  doubtful,  both  fo  clofely  pent, 
Which  firft  Ihould  iffue  thro'  the  narrow  vent : 
At  laft  agreed,  together  out  they  fly, 
Infeparable  now,  the  truth  and  lye ; 
The  ftricft  companions  are  for  ever  join'd, 
And  this  or  that  unmix'd,  no  mortal  e'er  fhall  find. 

While  thus  I  flood,  intent  to  fee  and  hear, 
One  came,  methought,  and  whifper'd  in  my  ear  : 

4      What 


The  TEMPLE  of  FAME.  i91 

What  could  thus  high  thy  ralh  ambition  raife  ? 
Art  thou,  fond  youth,  a  candidate  for  praife  ? 
'Tis  true,  faid  I,  not  void  of  hopes  I  came, 
For  who  fo  fond  as  youthful  bards  of  fame  ? 
But  few,  alas  !  the  cafual  blefling  boaft> 
So  hard  to  gain,  fo  eafy  to  be  loft ; 
How  vain  that  fecond  life  in  others  breathy 
Th'  eftate  which  wits  inherit  after  death ! 
Eafe,  health,  and  life,  for  this  we  muft  refig% 
(Unfure  the  tenour,  but  how  vaft  the  fine !) 
The  great  man's  curfe,  without  the  gains,  endure? 
Be  envy'd,  wretched,  and  be  flatter'd,  poor; 
All  lucklefs  wits  our  enemies  profeft, 
And  all  fuccefsful,  jealous  friends  are  beft. 
Nor  Fame  I  flight,  nor  for  her  favours  call ; 
She  comes  unlook'd  for,  if  fhe  comes  at  all. 
But  if  the  purchafe  cofts  fo  dear  a  price  r 
As  foothing  folly,  or  exalting  vice : 
Oh  !  if  the  Mufe  muft  flatter  lawlefs  fway, 
And  follow  ftill  where  fortune  leads  the  way ; 

Or 


I5>8  The  TEMPLE  of  FAME. 

Or  if  no  bafis  bear  my  rifing  name, 

But  the  fal'n  ruins  of  another's  fame : 

Then  teach  me  heav'n !  to  fcorn  the  guilty  bays ; 

Drive  from  my  breafl  that  wretched  lull  of  praife  ; 

Unblemifli'd  let  me  live,  or  die  unknown ; 

Oh  grant  an  honeft  fame,  or  grant  me  none ! 


JANU- 


^^mmmmMmMm^^^mmr^^mw^^mmmf^m 


J  A  NUA  KT  and  MAT- 


o  r; 


The  Merchants  Tale 


5 


FROM 


CHAUCER. 


JANUARY 


M 


AND 


A 


Y. 


HERE  liv'd  in  Lomhardy,  as  au^ 

thors  write, 
In  days  of  old,  a  wife  and  worthy 
Knight ; 

Of  gentle  manners,  as  of  gen'rous  race, 
Blefs'd  with  much  fenfe,  more  riches,  and  fome  grace. 
Yet  led  aftray  by  Venus'  foft  delights, 
He  fcarce  could  rule  fome  idle  appetites: 

Dd  For 


202  JANUARY    and    MAT 

For  long  ago,  let  Priefts  fay  what  they  cou'd, 
Weak  linful  laymen  were  but  flefli  and  blood. 

But  in  due  time,  when  fixty  years  were  o'er, 
He  vow'd  to  lead  this  vicious  life  no  more  j 
Whether  pure  holinefs  infpir'd  his  mind, 
Or  dotage  turn'd  his  brain,  is  hard  to  find ; 
But  his  high  courage  prick'd  him  forth  to  wedT, 
And  try  the  pleafures  of  a  lawful  bed. 
This  was  his  nightly  dream,  his  daily  care, 
And  to  the  heav'nly  pow'rs  his  conftant  pray'r, 
Once,  e'er  he  dy'd,  to  tafte  the  blifsfuj  life 
Of  a  kind  husband  and  a  loving  wife. 

Thefq  thoughts  he  fortify'd  with  reafons  ftill> 
(For  none  want  reafons  to  confirm  their  will) 
Grave  authors  fay,  and  witty  poets  fing, 
That  honeft  wedlock  is  a  glorious  thing: 
But  depth  of  judgment  moffc  in  him  appears, 
Who  wifely  weds  in  his  maturer  years. 
Then  let  him  chule  a  damfel  young  and  fair, 

To  blefs  his  age,  and  bring  a  worthy  heir  j, 

3  To 


JANUARY   and    MAT  203 

To  footh  his  cares,  and  free  from  noife  and  ftfife 

Conduct  him  gently  to  the  verge  of  life. 

Let  finful  batchelors  their  woes  deplore, 

Full  well  they  merit  all  they  feel,  and  more : 

Unaw'd  by  precepts,  human  or  divine, 

Like  birds  and  beafts,  promifcuoufly  they  join : 

Nor  know  to  make  the  prefent  blefling  laft, 

To  hope  the  future,  or  efteem  the  paft ; 

But  vainly  boaft  the  joys  they  never  try'd, 

And  find  divulg'd  the  fecrets  they  would  hide. 

The  marry'd  man  may  bear  his  yoke  with  eafe, 

Secure  at  once  himfelf  and  heav'n  to  pleafe  f 

And  pafs  his  inoffenfive  hours  away, 

In  blifs  all  night,  and  innocence  all  day  : 

Tho'  fortune  change,  his  conftant  fpoufe  remains, 

Augments  his  joys,  or  mitigates  his  pains. 

But  what  fo  pure,  which  envious  tongues  will  fpare? 
Some  wicked  wits  have  libell'd  all  the  fair. 
With  matchlefs  impudence  they  ftile  a  wife 
The  dear-bought  curfe,  and  lawful  plague  of  life ;  - 

D  d  2  A  bofom 


2o4  J  A  N  U  A  RT   and    M  A  T. 

A  bofbm-ferpent,  a  domeftic  evil, 

A  night-invafion,  and  a  mid-day-devil. 

Let  not  the  wife  thefe  fland'rous  words  regard", 

But  curfe  the  bones  of  ev'ry  lying  bard. 

All  other  goods  by  fortune's  hand  are  giv'iij 
A  Wife  is  the  peculiar  gift  of  heav'n : 
Vain  fortune's  favours,  never  at  a  flay, 
Like  empty  fhadows,  pafs^  and  glide  away ;. 
One  folid  comfort,  our  eternal  wife, 
Abundantly  fupplies  us  all  our  life : 
This  blefling  lafts,  (if  thofe  who^try,  fay  true) 
As  long  as  heart  can  wilh — -and  longer  too. 

Our  grandfire  Adamy  eVe  of  Eve  pofTefs'd, 
Alone,  and  ev'n  in  Paradife  unblefs'd, 
With  mournful  looks  the  blifsful  fcenes  furvey'd, 
And  wander 'd  in  the  fblitary  fhade: 
The  Maker  faw,  took  pity,  and  beftow'd 
Woman,  the  laft,  the  befl:  referve  of  GocL 

A  Wife !  ah  gentle  deities,  can  he 
That  has  a  wife,  e'er  feel  adverfity  ? 

Would 


JANUARY    and    MAY.  205 

Would  men  but  follow  what  the  fex  advife, 

All  things  would  profper,  all  the  world  grow  wife. 

'Twas  by  Rebecca's  aid  that  Jacob  won 

His  father's  blefling  from  an  elder  fon>: 

Abufive  Nabal  ow'd  his  forfeit  life 

To  the  wife  condudfc  of  a  prudent  wife : 

Heroic  Judith,  as  old  Hebrews  fhow, 

Preferv'd  the  Jews,  and  flew  th'AJfyrian  foe: 

At  Heflefs  fuit,  the  perfecuting  fword 

Was  fheath'd,  and  Ifrael  liv'd  to  blefs  the  Lord. 

Thefe  weighty  motives,  January  the  fage 
Maturely  ponder'd  in  his  riper  age .;. 
And  charm'd  with  virtuous  joys,  and  fober  life, 
Would  try  that  Chriftian  comfort,  call'd  a  wife  : 
His  friends  were  fummon'd  on  a  point  fo  nice, 
To  pafs  their  judgment,  and  to  give  advice ;  - 
But  fix'd  before,  and  well  refolv'd  was  he ; 
(As  men  that  ask  advice  are  wont  to  be) 

My  friends,  he  cry'd,  (and  caft  a  mournful  look 
Around  the  room,  and  figh'd  before  he  fpoke :) 

Beneath 


206  JANUARY    and    M  A  T 

Beneath  the  weight  of  threefcore  years  I  bend, 
And  worn  with  cares,  am  haft'ning  to  my  end ; 
How  I  have  liv'd,  alas!  you  know  too  well, 
In  worldly  follies,  which  I  blulh  to  tell ; 
But  gracious  heav'n  has  op'd  my  eyes  at  laft, 
With  due  regret  I  view  my  vices  paft, 
And  as  the  precept  of  the  Church  decrees, 
Will  take  a  wife,  and  live  in  holy  eafe. 
But  fince  by  counfel  all  things  fhould  be  done, 
And  many  heads  are  wifer  ftill  than  one ; 
Chufe  you  for  me,  who  beft  fhall  be  content 
When  my  defire's  approv'd  by  your  confent. 

One  caution  yet  is  needful  to  be  told, 
To  guide  your  choice;  this  wife  mull  not  be  old: 
There  goes  a  faying,  and  'twas  fhrewdly  faid, 
Old  fifli  at  table,  but  young  flefh  in  bed. 
My  foul  abhors  the  taftlefs,  dry  embrace 
Of  a  ftale  virgin  with  a  winter  face  ; 
In  that  cold  feafon  Love  but  treats  his  gueft 
With  beanftraw,  and  tough  forage  at  the  beft. 

No 


JANUARY   and    MAT  207 

No  crafty  widows  fhall  approach  my  bed ; 
Thofe  are  too  wife  for  batchelors  to  wed ; 
As  fubtle  clerks  by  many  fchools  are  made, 
Twice-marry'd  dames  are  miftrefles  o'th' trade: 
But  young  and  tender  virgins,  rul'd  with  eafe, 
We  form  like  wax,  and  mold  them  as  we  pleafe. 
Conceive  me,  Sirs,  nor  take  my  fenfe  amiis; 
'Tis  what  concerns  my  foul's  eternal  blifs ; 
Since  if  I  found  no  pleafure  in  my  fpoufe, 
As  flefli  is  frail,  and  who  (God  help  me)  knows  ? 
Then  fhould  I  live  in  lewd  adultery, 
And  fink  downright  to  Satan  when  I  die. 
Or  were  I  curfs'd  with  an  unfruitful  bed, 
The  righteous  end  were  loft,  for  which  I  wed ; 
To  raife  up  feed  to  blefs  the  pow'rs  above, 
And  not  for  pleafure  only,  or  for  love. 
Think  not  I  doat  \  'tis  time  to  take  a  wife, 
When  vigorous  blood  forbids  a  charter  life : 
Thofe  that  are  bleft  with  ftore  of  grace  divine, 
May  live  like  faints,  by  heav'ns  confent,  and  mine. 

And 


2o8  JANUARY    and    MAT 

And  fince  I  fpeak  of  wedlock,  let  me  fay, 
(As,  thank  my  ftars,  in  modeft  truth  I  may) 
My  limbs  are  a&ive,  ftill  Fm  found  at  heart, 
And  a  new  vigour  fprings  in  ev'ry  part. 
Think  not  my  virtue  loft,  tho'  time  has  ihed 
Thefe  rev'rend  honours  on  my  hoary  head ; 
Thus  trees  are  crown'd  with  bloffoms  white  as  fnow, 
The  vital  fap  then  rifing  from  below : 
Old  as  I  am,  my  lufty  limbs  appear 
Like  winter  greens,  that  flourifli  all  the  year. 
Now,  Sirs,  you  know  to  what  I  ftand  inclined, 
Let  ev'ry  friend  with  freedom  fpeak  his  mind. 

He  faid ;    the  reft  in  different  parts  divide, 
The  knotty  point  was  urg'd  on  either  fide ; 
Marriage,  the  theme  on  which  they  all  declaim'd, 
Some  prais'd  with  wit,  and  fome  with  reafon  blam'd. 
Till,  what  with  proofs,  obje&ions,  and  replies, 
Each  wondrous  pofitive,  and  wondrous  wife, 
There  fell  between  his  brothers  a  debate, 
Placebo  this  was  calPd,  and  Jujtin  that. 

Firft 


I 


JAN  U  A  R  T    and.    MAT  20? 

Firft  to  the  Knight  Tlacebo  thus  begun, 
(Mild  were  his  looks,  and  pleafing  was  his  tone) 
Such  prudence,  Sir,  in  all  your  words  appears, 
As  plainly  proves,  experience  dwells  with  years ! 
Yet  you  purfue  fage  Solomon's  advice, 
To  work  by  counfel  when  affairs  are  nice : 
But,  with  the  Wifeman's  leave,  I  muft  proteft, 
So  may  my  foul  arrive  at  eafe  and  reft, 
As  ftill  I  hold  your  own  advice  the  beft.  ) 

Sir,  I  have  liv'd  a  Courtier  all  my  days, 
And  ftudy'd  men,  their  manners,  and  their  ways ; 
And  have  obferv'd  this  ufeful  maxim  ftill, 
To  let  my  betters  always  have  their  will. 
Nay,  if  my  Lord  affirm'd  that  black  was  white, 
My  word  was  this,  Your  honour's  in  the  right. 
Th'  afluming  Wit,  who  deems  himfelf  fo  wife 
As  his  miftaken  patron  to  advife, 
Let  him  not  dare  to  vent  his  dang'rous  thought ; 
A  noble  fool  was  never  in  a  fault. 

E  e  This, 


210  JANUARY    and    MAT 

This,  Sir,  affe&s  not  you,  whofe  ev'ry  word 
Is  weigh'd  with  judgment,  and  befits  a  Lord : 
Your  will  is  mine ;  and  is  (I  will  maintain) 
Pleafing  to  God,  and  fliould  be  fo  to  Man ; 
At  lead,  your  courage  all  the  world  muft  praife, 
Who  dare  to  wed  in  your  declining  days. 
Indulge  the  vigour  of  your  mounting  blood, 
And  let  grey  fools  be  indolently  good, 
Who  paft  all  pleafure,  damn  the  joys  of  fenfe, 
With  rev'rend  dulnefs,  and  grave  impotence. 

Jujlin,  who  filent  fate,  and  heard  the  man, 
Thus,  with  a  philofophic  frown,  began. 

A  heathen  author,  of  the  firft  degree, 
(Who,  tho'  not  Faith,  had  Senfe  as  well  as  we) 
Bids  us  be  certain  our  concerns  to  truft 
To  thofe  of  gen'rous  principles,  and  juft. 
The  venture's  greater,  I'll  prefume  to  fay, 
To  give  your  perfon,  than  your  goods  away  : 
And  therefore,  Sir,  as  you  regard  your  reft, 
Firft  learn  your  Lady's  qualities  at  leaft : 

Whether 


JANUARY    and    MAT.  211 

Whether  fhe's  chaft  or  rampant,  proud  or  civil ; 
Meek  as  a  faint,  or  haughty  as  the  devil ; 
Whether  an  eafy,  fond,  familiar  fool, 
Or  fuch  a  wit  as  no  man  e'er  can  rule  ? 
'Tis  true,  perfection  none  muft  hope  to  find 
In  all  this  world,  much  lefs  in  womankind ; 
But  if  her  virtues  prove  the  larger  fhare, 
Blefs  the  kind  fates,  and  think  your  fortune  rare. 
Ah,  gentle  Sir,  take  warning  of  a  friend, 
Who  knows  too  well  the  ft  ate  you  thus  commend ; 
And,  fpight  of  all  its  praifes,  muft  declare, 
All  he  can  find  is  bondage,  coft,  and  care. 
Heav'n  knows,  I  flied  full  many  a  private  tear, 
And  figh  in  filence,  left  the  world  Ihould  hear : 
While  all  my  friends  applaud  my  blifsful  life, 
And  fwear  no  mortal's  happier  in  a  wife; 
Demure  and  chafte  as  any  veftal  Nun, 
The  meekeft  creature  that  beholds  the  fun ! 
But,  by  th'  immortal  pow'rs,  I  feel  the  pain, 
And  he  that  fmarts  has  reafon  to  complain. 

E  e  2 


212  JANUARY    and    MAY. 

Do  what  you  lift,  for  me ;   you  muft  be  fage, 
And  cautious  fure ;   for  wifdom  is  in  Age  : 
But,  at  thefe  years,  to  venture  on  the  fair ! 
By  him,  who  made  the  ocean,  earth,  and  air, 
To  pleafe  a  wife,  when  her  occafions  call, 
Would  bufy  the  moft  vig'rous  of  us  all. 
And  truft  me,  Sir,  the  chafteft  you  can  chufe 
Will  ask  obfervance,  and  exa<£t  her  dues. 
If  what  I  fpcak  my  noble  Lord  offend, 
My  tedious  fermon  here  is  at  an  end. 

'Tis  well,  'tis  wond'rous  well,  the  Knight  replies, 
Moft  worthy  kinfman,  faith  you're  mighty  wife ! 
We,  Sirs,  are  fools  ;   and  muft  refign  the  caufe 
To  heath'nifh  authors,  proverbs,  and  old  faws. 
He  fpoke  with  fcorn,  and  turn'd  another  way  ;--- 
What  does  my  friend,  my  dear  Placebo  fay  ? 

I  fay,  quoth  he,  by  heav'n  the  man's  to  blame, 
To  flander  wives,  and  wedlock's  holy  name. 
At  this,  the  council  rofe,  without  delay ; 
Each,  in  his  own  opinion,  went  his  way; 

With 


JANUARY    and    MAT;  215 

With  full  confent,  that  all  difputes  appeas'd, 
The  Knight  fhould  marry,  when  and  where  he  pleas'd. 

Who  now  but  January  exults  with  joy  ? 
The  charms  of  wedlock  all  his  foul  employ  : 
Each  nymph  by  turns  his  wav'ring  mind  pofleft,. 
And  reign'd  the  fliort-liv'd  tyrant  of  his  bread  ;- 
While  fancy  pi61ur'd  ev'ry  lively  part, 
And  each  bright  image  wander'd  o'er  his  heart. 
Thus,  in  fome  publick  Forum  fix'd  on  high, 
A  Mirrour  lhows  the  figures  moving  by  ; 
Still  one  by  one,  in  fwift  fucceflion,  pafs 
The  gliding  fhadows  o'er  the  polifh'd  glafs. 
This  Lady's  charms  the  niceil  cou'd  not  blame,. 
But  vile  fufpicions  had  afpers'd  her  fame ; 
That  was  with  fenfe,  but  not  with  virtue,  bleft  ; 
And  one  had  grace,  that  wanted  all  the  reft. 
Thus  doubting  long  what  nymph  he  fhou'd  obey? 
He  fix'd  at  laft  upon  the  youthful  May. 
Her  faults  he  knew  not,  Love  is  always  blind, 
But  ev'ry  charm  revolv'd  within  his  mind :. 

Her 


2i4  JANUARY    and    MAT. 

Her  tender  age,  her  form  divinely  fair, 
Her  eafy  motion,  her  attractive  air, 
Her  fweet  behaviour,  her  enchanting  face, 
Her  moving  foftnefs,  and  majeftic  grace. 

Much  in  his  prudence  did  our  Knight  rejoice, 
And  thought  no  mortal  could  difpute  this  choice : 
Once  more  in  hafte  he  fummon'd  ev'ry  friend, 
And  told  them  all,  their  pains  were  at  an  end. 
Heav'n,  that  (faid  he)  infpir'd  me  firft  to  wed, 
Provides  a  confort  worthy  of  my  bed ; 
Let  none  oppofe  th'  ele6tion,  fince  on  this 
Depends  my  quiet,  and  my  future  blifs. 

A  dame  there  is,  the  darling  of  my  eyes, 
Young,  beauteous,  artlefs,  innocent,  and  wife ; 
Chafte,  tho'  not  rich,  and  tho'  not  nobly  born, 
Of  honeft  parents,  and  may  ferve  my  turn. 
Her  will  I  wed,  if  gracious  heav'n  fo  pleafe ; 
To  pafs  my  age  in  fandity  and  eafe: 
And  thank  the  pow'rs,  I  may  poflefs  alone 
The  lovely  prize,  and  fhare  my  blifs  with  none ! 

If 


JANUARY    and    MAT.  215 

If  you,  my  friends,  this  virgin  can  procure, 
My  joys  are  full,  my  happinefs  is  fure. 

One  only  doubt  remains ;    full  oft'  I've  heard, 
By  cafuifts  grave,  and  deep  divines  averr'd ; 
That  'tis  too  much  for  human  race  to  know 
The  blifs  of  heav'n  above,  and  earth  below. 
Now  fliould  the  nuptial  pleafures  prove  fo  great, 
To  match  the  bleffings  of  the  future  ftate, 
Thofe  endlefs  joys  were  ill  exchang'd  for  thefe ; 
Then  clear  this  doubt,  and  fet  my  mind  at  eafe. 

This  Juftin  heard,  nor  could  his  fpleen  controuly. 
Touch 'd  to  the  quick,  and  tickled  at  the  foul. 
Sir  Knight,  he  cry'd,  if  this  be  all  you  dread, 
Heav'n  put  it  paft  your  doubt,  whene'er  you  wed  ; 
And  to  my  fervent  pray'rs  fo  far  confent, 
That  e're  the  rites  are  o'er,  you  may  repent! 
Good  heav'n  no  doubt  the  nuptial  ftate  approves^, 
Since  it  chaftifes  ftill  what  beft  it  loves. 


2i6  JANUARY    and    MAT 

Then  be  not,  Sir,  abandon'd  to  defpair ;  -j 

Seek,  and  perhaps  you'll  find,  among  the  fair,       ( 

One,  that  may  do  your  bufinefs  to  a  hair ;  \ 

Not  ev'n  in  willi,  your  happinefs  delay, 

But  prove  the  fcourge  to  lalh  you  on  your  way : 

Then  to  the  skies  your  mounting  foul  fhall  go, 

Swift,  as  an  arrow  foaring  from  the  bow ! 

Provided  ftill,  you  moderate  your  joy, 

Nor  in  your  pleafures  all  your  might  employ, 

Let  reafon's  rule  your  ftrong  defires  abate, 

Nor  pleafe  too  lavifhly  your  gentle  mate. 

Old  wives  there  are,  of  judgment  moft  acute, 

Who  folve  thefe  queftions  beyond  all  difpute ; 

Confult  with  thofe,  and  be  of  better  chear ; 

Marry,  do  penance,  and  difmifs  your  fean 

So  faid,  they  rofe,  nor  more  the  work  delay'd  -T 
The  match  was  offer'd,  the  propofals  made. 
The  parents,  you  may  think,  would  foon  comply ; 
The  Old  have  int'reft  ever  in  their  eye. 

Nor 


JANUARY    and    MAT.  217 

Nor  was  it  hard  to  move  the  Lady's  mind, 
When  fortune  favours,  ftill  the  fair  are  kind. 
I  pafs  each  previous  fettlement  and  deed, 
Too  long  for  me  to  write,  or  you  to  read ; 
Nor  will  with  quaint  impertinence  difplay 
The  pomp,  the  pageantry,  the  proud  array. 
The  time  approach'd,  to  Church  the  parties  went, 
At  once  with  carnal  and  devout  intent : 
Forth  came  the  Prieft,  and  bade  th'  obedient  wife 
Like  Sarah  or  Rebecca,  lead  her  life : 
Then  pray'd  the  pow'rs  the  fruitful  bed  to  blefs. 
And  made  all  fure  enough  with  holinefs. 

And  now  the  palace  gates  are  open'd  wide, 
The  guefts  appear  in  order,  fide  by  fide, 
And  plac'd  in  ftate,  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride.) 
The  breathing  flute's  foft  notes  are  heard  around, 
And  the  Xliril  trumpets  mix  their  filver  found  ; 
The  vaulted  roofs  with  echoing  mufic  ring, 
Thefe  touch  the  vocal  flops,  and  thofe  the  trembling 
firing. 

Ff  Not 


1 


218  JANUARY    and    MAT 

Not  thus  Amphion  tun'd  the  warbling  lyre, 
Nor  Joab  the  founding  clarion  could  infpire, 
Nor  fierce  Theodamas,  whole  fprightly  ftrain 
Cou'd  fwell  the  foul  to  rage,  and  fire  the  martial  train. 

Bacchus  himfelf,  the  nuptial  feaft  to  grace, 
(So  Poets  fing)  was  prefent  on  the  place : 
And  lovely  Venus  1  Goddefs  of  delight,  -\ 

Shook  high  her  flaming  torch  in  open  fight,  C 

And  danc'd  around,  and  fmiPd  on  ev'ry  Knight :  j 
Pleas'd  her  beft  fervant  wou'd  his  courage  try> 
No  lefs  in  wedlock,  than  in  liberty. 
Full  many  an  age  old  Hymen  had  not  fpy'd 
So  kind  a  bridegroom,  or  fo  bright  a  bride. 
Ye  bards !  renown'd  among  the  tuneful  throng, 
For  gentle  lays,  and  joyous  nuptial  fong ; 
Think  not  your  fofteft  numbers  can  difplay 
The  matchlefs  glories  of  this  blifsful  day : 
The  joys  are  fuch,  as  far  tranfcend  your  rage, 
When  tender  youth  has  wedded  Hooping  age. 


The 


JANUARY    and    MAT.  2i9 

The  beauteous  dame  fate  fmiling  at  the  board, 
And  darted  am'rous  glances  at  her  Lord ; 
Not  Hejier's  felf,  whofe  charms  the  Hebrews  fing, 
E'er  look'd  fo  lovely  on  her  Ferjian  King : 
Bright  as  the  rifing  fun,  in  fummer's  day, 
And  frelh  and  blooming  as  the  month  of  May ! 
The  joyful  Knight  furvey'd  her  by  his  fide, 
Nor  envy'd  Paris  with  the  Spartan  bride  : 
Still  as  his  mind  revolv'd  with  vaft  delight 
Th'  entrancing  raptures  of  th'  approaching  night : 
Reftlefs  he  fate,  invoking  ev'ry  pow'r, 
To  fpeed  his  blifs,  and  hafte  the  happy  hour. 
Meantime  the  vig'rous  dancers  beat  the  ground, 
And  fongs  were  fung,  and  flowing  bowls  went  round, 
With  od'rous  fpices  they  perfum'd  the  place, 
And  mirth  and  pleafure  fhone  in  ev'ry  face. 

Damian  alone  of  all  the  menial  train, 
Sad  in  the  midft  of  triumphs,  figh'd  for  pain ; 
Damian  alone,  the  knight's  obfequious  fquire, 
Confum'd  at  heart,  and  fed  a  fecret  fire. 

F  f  2  His 


^20  J  A  N  U  A  RT    and    MAT. 

His  lovely  miftrefs  all  his  foul  poffeft, 
He  look'd,  he  languifh'd,  and  cou'd  take  no  reft : 
His  task  perform 'd,  he  fadly  went  his  way, 
Fell  on  his  bed,  and  loath'd  the  light  of  day ; 
There  let  him  lie ;    till  the  relenting  dame 
Weep  in  her  turn,  and  wafte  in  equal  flame. 

The  weary  fun,  as  learned  poets  write, 
Forfook  th'  horizon,  and  rowl'd  down  the  light ; 
While  glitt'ring  ftars  his  abfent  beams  fupply, 
And  night's  dark  mantle  overfpread  the  sky. 
Then  rofe  the  guefts ;  and  as  the  time  required, 
Each  paid  his  thanks,  and  decently  retir'd. 

The  foe  once  gone,  our  Knight  prepar'd  t'undrefs, 
So  keen  he  was,  and  eager  to  poflefs : 
But  firft  thought  fit  th'  affiftance  to  receive, 
Which  grave  Phyficians  fcruple  not  to  give ; 
Satyr  ion  near,  with  hot  Eringo's  flood, 
Cantharides,  to  fire  the  lazy  blood, 
Whofe  ufe  old  Bards  defcribe  in  lufcious  rhymes, 
And  Critics  learn'd  explain  to  modern  times. 

5  By 


JANUARY    and    MAT.  221 

By  this  the  fheets  were  fpread,  the  bride  undrefs'd, 
The  room  was  fprinkled,  and  the  bed  was  blefs'd. 
What  next  enfu'd  befeems  not  me  to  fay  ; 
Tis  fung,  he  labour'd  till  the  dawning  day, 
Then  briskly  fprung  from  bed,  with  heart  fo  light,  ") 
As  all  were  nothing  he  had  done  by  night ;  £ 

And  fupp'd  his  cordial  as  he  fate  upright :  ) 

He  kifs'd  his  balmy  fpoufe  with  wanton  play, 
And  feebly  fung  a  lufty  roundelay : 
Then  on  the  couch  his  weary  limbs  he  caft ; 
For  ev'ry  labour  muft  have  reft  at  laft. 

But  anxious  cares  the  penfive  fquire  oppreft, 
Sleep  fled  his  eyes,  and  peace  forfook  his  breaft ; 
The  raging  flames  that  in  his  bofome  dwell, 
He  wanted  art  to  hide,  and  means  to  tell. 
Yet  hoping  time  th'  occafion  might  betray, 
Composed  a  fonnet  to  the  lovely  May ; 
Which  writ  and  folded,  with  the  niceft  art, 
He  wrapp'd  in  filk,  and  laid  upon  his  heart 

When 


222  J  A  N  U  A  R  T    and    MAY. 

When  now  the  fourth  revolving  day  was  run 
('Twas  June  and  Cancer  had  receiv'd  the  fun) 
Forth  from  her  chamber  came  the  beauteous  bride; 
The  good  old  knight  mov'd  flowly  by  her  fide. 
High  Mafs  was  fung ;  they  feafted  in  the  hall ; 
The  fervants  round  flood  ready  at  their  call. 
The  fquire  alone  was  abfent  from  the  board, 
And  much  his  ficknefs  griev'd  his  worthy  Lord, 
Who  pray'd  his  fpoufe  attended  by  her  train, 
To  vifit  Darnian,  and  divert  his  pain. 
Th'  obliging  dames  obey'd  with  one  confent ; 
They  left  the  hall,  and  to  his  lodging  went ; 
The  female  tribe  furround  him  as  he  lay, 
And  clofe  befide  him  fate  the  gentle  May : 
Where,  as  flie  try'd  his  pulfe,  he  foftly  drew 
A  fpeaking  figh,  and  caft  a  mournful  view  ; 
Then  gave  his  bill,  and  brib'd  the  pow'rs  divine 
With  fecret  vowrs,  to  favour  his  defign. 

Who  ftudies  now  but  difcontented  May  ? 
On  her  foft  couch  uneafily  fhe  lay  : 

The 


ipf* 


JANUARY    and    MAT  223 

The  lumpifh  husband  fnoar'd  away  the  night, 
Till  coughs  awak'd  him  near  the  morning  light. 
What  then  he  did,  I  not  prefume  to  tell, 
Nor  if  fhe  thought  herfelf  in  heav'n  or  hell : 
Honeft  and  dull,  in  nuptial  bed  they  lay, 
Till  the  bell  toll'd,  and  all  arofe  to  pray. 

Were  it  by  forceful  deftiny  decreed, 
Or  did  from  chance,  or  nature's  pow'r  proceed  ; 
Or  that  fome  ftar  with  afpe&  kind  to  love, 
Shed  its  fele6left  influence  from  above ; 
Whatever  was  the  caufe,  the  tender  dame 
Felt  the  firft  motions  of  an  infant  flame; 
Received  th'  impreflions  of  the  lovefick  fquire, 
And  wafted  in  the  foft,  infectious  fire. 

Ye  fair,  draw  near,  let  May's  example  move 
Your  gentle  minds  to  pity  thofe  who  love ! 
Had  fome  fierce  tyrant  in  her  ftead  been  foundj 
The  poor  adorer  fure  had  hang'd,  or  drown'd: 
But  fhe,  your  fex's  mirrour,  free  from  pride, 
Was  much  too  meek  to  prove  a  homicide. 

But 


22+  J  A  N  U  A  R  T    and    MA  T. 

But  to  my  tale :   fome  Sages  have  defin'd 
Pleafure  the  fov'reign  blifs  of  humankind : 
Our  Knight  (who  ftudy'd  much,  we  may  fuppofe) 
Deriv'd  this  high  philofophy  from  thofe  ; 
For,  like  a  Prince,  he  bore  the  vaft  expence 
Of  lavifh  pomp  and  proud  magnificence : 
His  houfe  was  ftately,  his  retinue  gay, 
Large  was  his  train,  and  gorgeous  his  array. 
His  fpacious  garden  made  to  yield  to  none, 
Was  compafs'd  round  with  walls  of  folid  ftone ; 
Priapus  cou'd  not  half  defcribe  the  grace 
(Tho5  God  of  gardens)  of  this  charming  place  : 
A  place  to  tire  the  rambling  wits  of  France 
In  long  defcriptions,  and  exceed  Romance  ; 
Enough  to  fliame  the  gentleft  bard  that  fings 
Of  painted  meadows,  and  of  purling  fprings. 

Full  in  the  centre  of  the  flow'ry  ground, 
A  cryftalf  ountain  fpread  its  ftreams  around, 
The  fruitful  banks  with  verdant  lawrels  crown'd :   } 


i 


About 


JANUARY    and    M  A  T  225 

About  this  fpring  (if  ancient  fame  fay  true) 

The  dapper  Elves  their  moonlight  fports  purfue ; 

Their  pigmy  king,  and  little  fairy  queen, 

In  circling  dances  gamboPd  on  the  green, 

While  tuneful  fprites  a  merry  confort  made, 

And  airy  mufic  warbled  thro'  the  fliade. 
Hither  the  noble  knight  would  oft'  repair, 

(His  fcene  of  pleafure,  and  peculiar  care) 
For  this  he  held  it  dear,  and  always  bore 
The  filver  key  that  lock'd  the  garden  door. 
To  this  fweet  place,  in  fummer's  fultry  heat, 
He  us'd  from  noife  and  bus'nefs  to  retreat ; 
And  here  in  dalliance  fpend  the  live-long  day, 
Solus  cum  fola,  with  his  fprightly  May. 
For  whate'er  work  was  undifcharg'd  a-bed, 
The  duteous  knight  in  this  fair  garden  fped. 
But  ah !  what  mortal  lives  of  blifs  fecure, 
How  fliort  a  fpace  our  worldly  joys  endure  ? 
O  Fortune,  fair,  like  all  thy  treach'rous  kind, 
But  faithlefs  ftill,  and  wav'ring  as  the  wind ! 

G  g  O  painted 


I 


226  JJNUJRT    and    MAT. 

O  painted  monfter,  form'd  mankind  to  cheat, 
With  pleafing  poifon,  and  with  foft  deceit ! 
This  rich,  this  am'rous,  venerable  knight, 
Amidft  his  eafe,  his  folace,  and  delight, 
Struck  blind  by  thee,  refigns  his  days  to  grief, 
And  calls  on  death,  the  wretche's  laft  relief. 

The  rage  of  jealoufy  then  feiz'd  his  mind, 
For  much  he  fear 'd  the  faith  of  womankind. 
His  wife  not  fuffer'd  from  his  fide  to  ftray, 
Was  captive  kept,  he  watch'd  her  night  and  day 
Abridg'd  her  pleafures,  and  confin'd  her  fway.       ) 
Full  oft'  in  tears  did  haplefs  May  complain, 
And  figh'd  full  oft';  but  figh'd  and  wept  in  vain ; 
She  look'd  on  Damian  with  a  lover's  eye, 
For  oh,  'twas  fix'd  ;    lhe  muft  poffefs  or  die ! 
Nor  lefs  impatience  vex'd  her  am'rous  fquire, 
Wild  with  delay,  and  burning  with  defire. 
Watch'd  as  flie  was,  yet  could  not  he  refrain 
By  fecret  writing  to  difclofe  his  pain ; 


The 


JANUARY   and    MAT.  227 

The  dame  by  figns  reveal'd  her  kind  intent, 
Till  both  were  confcious  what  each  other  meant. 

Ah  gentle  knight,  what  would  thy  eyes  avail, 
Tho'  they  could  fee  as  far  as  lhips  can  fail  ? 
'Tis  better  fure,  when  blind,  deceived  to  be, 
Than  be  deluded  when  a  man  can  fee ! 

Argus  himfelf,  fo  cautious  and  fo  wife, 
Was  over-watch'd,  for  all  his  hundred  eyes : 
So  many  an  honeft  husband  may,  'tis  known, 
Who,  wifely,  never  thinks  the  cafe  his  own. 

The  dame  at  laft,  by  diligence  and  care, 
Procur'd  the  key  her  knight  was  wont  to  bear ; 
She  took  the  wards  in  wax  before  the  fire, 
And  gave  th'  impreflion  to  the  trufty  fqnire. 
By  means  of  this,  fome  wonder  fhall  appear, 
Which  in  due  place  and  feafon,  you  may  hear. 

Well  fung  fweet  Ovid  in  the  days  of  yore, 
What  flight  is  that  which  Love  will  not  explore? 
And  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  plainly  fliow 
The  feats  true  lovers,  when  they  lift,  can  do  : 

G  g  2  Tho' 


I 


228  JANUARY    and     M  A  T 

Tho'  watch'd  and  captive,  yet  in  fpite  of  all, 
They  found  the  art  of  kifling  thro'  a  wall. 

But  now  no  longer  from  our  tale  to  ftray ; 
It  happ'd,  that  once  upon  a  fummer's  day, 
Our  rev 'rend  knight  was  urg'd  to  am'rous  play : 
He  rais'd  his  fpoufe,  e're  Matin  bell  was  rung, 
And  thus  his  morning  canticle  he  fung. 

Awake,  my  love,  difclofe  thy  radiant  eyes ; 
Arife,  my  wife,  my  beauteous  Lady,  rife ! 
Hear  how  the  doves  with  penfive  notes  complain, 
And  in  foft  murmurs  tell  the  trees  their  pain ; 
The  winter's  paft ;   the  clouds  and  tempefts  fly ; 
The  fun  adorns  the  fields,  and  brightens  all  the  sky. 
Fair  without  fpot,  whofe  ev'ry  charming  part 
My  bofome  wounds,  and  captivates  my  heart ; 
Come,  and  in  mutual  pleafures  let's  engage, 
Joy  of  my  life,  and  comfort  of  my  age. 

This  heard,  to  Damian  ftrait  a  fign  fhe  made, 
To  hafte  before ;   the  gentle  fquire  obey'd : 


Secret, 


J 'A  NU A  RT    and    MAT.  229 

Secret,  and  undefcryM,  he  took  his  way, 
And  ambufh'd  clofe  behind  an  arbour  lay. 

It  was  not  long  e're  January  came, 
And  hand  in  hand,  with  him,  his  lovely  dame; 
Blind  as  he  was,  not  doubting  all  was  fure, 
He  turn'd  the  key,  and  made  the  gate  fecure. 

Here  let  us  walk,  he  faid,  obferv'd  by  none, 
Confcious  of  pleafures  to  the  world  unknown : 
So  may  my  foul  have  joy,  as  thou,  my  wife, 
Art  far  the  deareft  folace  of  my  life ; 
And  rather  wou'd  I  chufe,  by  heav'n  above, 
To  die  this  inftant,  than  to  lofe  thy  love. 
Reflect  what  truth  was  in  my  paffion  fhown,  } 

When  un-endow'd,  I  took  thee  for  my  own,  ^ 

And  fought  no  treafure  but  thy  heart  alone.  ) 

Old  as  I  am,  and  now  depriv'd  of  fight, 
While  thou  art  faithful  to  thy  own  true  knight, 
Nor  age,  nor  blindnefs,  rob  me  of  delight.  j 

Each  other  lofs  with  patience  I  can  bear, 
The  lofs  of  thee  is  what  I  only  fear. 

Confider 


i 


23o  JANUARY    and    MAT. 

Confider  then,  my  Lady,  and  my  wife, 
The  folid  comforts  of  a  virtuous  life. 
As  firft,  the  love  of  Chrift  himfelf  you  gain ; 
Next,  your  own  honour  undefil'd  maintain ; 
And  laftly  that  which  fure  your  mind  mull  move, 
My  whole  eflate  fhall  gratify  your  love : 
Make  your  own  terms,  and  e're  to  morrow's  fun 
Difplays  his  light,  by  heav'n  it  fhall  be  done. 
I  feal  the  contrail  with  a  holy  kifs, 
And  will  perform,  by  this — my  dear,  and  this. — 
Have  comfort,  fpoufe,  nor  think  thy  Lord  unkind ; 
'Tis  love,  not  jealoufy,  that  fires  my  mind. 
For  when  thy  charms  my  fober  thoughts  engage, 
And  join'd  to  them,  my  own  unequal  age ; 
From  thy  dear  fide  I  have  no  pow'r  to  part, 
Such  fecret  tranfports  warm  my  melting  heart. 
For  who  that  once  polled  thofe  heav'nly  charms, 
Cou'd  live  one  moment,  abfent  from  thy  arms  ? 

He  ceas'd,  and  May  with  modeft  grace  reply 'd ; 
(Weak  was  her  voice,  as  while  flie  fpoke  flie  cry'd  :) 

Heav'n 


JANUARY    and    MAT  231 

Heav'n  knows,  (with  that  a  tender  figh  fhe  drew) 

I  have  a  foul  to  fave  as  well  as  you ; 

And,  what  no  lefs  you  to  my  charge  commend, 

My  deareft  honour,  will  to  death  defend. 

To  you  in  holy  Church  I  gave  my  hand, 

And  join'd  my  heart  in  wedlock's  facred  band  : 

Yet  after  this,  if  you  diftruft  my  care, 
Then  hear,  my  Lord,  and  witnefs  what  I  fwear. 
Firft  may  the  yawning  earth  her  bofome  rend, 
And  let  me  hence  to  hell  alive  defcend  ; 
Or  die  the  death  I  dread  no  lefs  than  hell, 
Sow'd  in  a  fack,  and  plung'd  into  a  well : 
E're  I  my  fame  by  one  lewd  a&  difgrace, 
Or  once  renounce  the  honour  of  my  race. 
For  know,  fir  knight,  of  gentle  blood  I  came, 
I  loath  a  whore,  and  ftartle  at  the  name. 
But  jealous  men  on  their  own  crimes  refled:, 
And  learn  from  thence  their  Ladies  to  fufped: : 
Elfe  why  thefe  needlefs  cautions,  Sir,  to  me  ? 
Thefe  doubts  and  fears  of  female  conftancy  ? 

?  This 


232  JANUARY    and    MAT 

This  chime  Hill  rings  in  ev'ry  Lady's  ear, 
The  only  (train  a  wife  muft  hope  to  hear. 

Thus  while  flie  fpoke,  a  fidelong  glance  lhe  caft, 
Where  Damian  kneeling,  worfhipp'd  as  lhe  part. 
She  faw  him  watch  the  motions  of  her  eye, 
And  fingled  out  a  Peartree  planted  nigh  : 
"Twas  charg'd  with  fruit  that  made  a  goodly  lhow, 
And  hung  with  dangling  pears  was  ev'ry  bough. 
Thither  th'  obfequious  fquire  addrefs'd  his  pace, 
And  climbing,  in  the  fummit  took  his  place ; 
The  Knight  and  Lady  walk'd  beneath  in  view, 
Where  let  us  leave  them,  and  our  tale  purfue. 

'Twas  now  the  feafon  when  the  glorious  fun 
His  heav'nly  progrefs  thro'  the  Twins  had  run  ; 
And  Jove,  exalted,  his  mild  influence  yields, 
To  glad  the  glebe,  and  paint  the  flow'ry  fields. 
Clear  was  the  day,  and  Phoebus  riling  bright, 
Had  ftreak'd  the  a^ure  firmament  with  light ; 
He  pierc'd  the  glitt'ring  clouds  with  golden  ftreams, 


And  warm'd  the  womb  of  earth  with  genial  beams. 


It 


JANUART    and    MAT.  233 


It  fo  befel,  in  that  fair  morning-tide, 


I 


The  Fairies  fported  on  the  garden's  fide, 

And,  in  the  midft,  their  Monarch  and  his  bride,  j 

So  featly  tripp'd  the  lightfoot  Ladies  round,         ") 

The  knights  fo  nimbly  o'er  the  greenfword  bound,> 

That  fcarce  they  bent  the  flow'rs;or  touch 'd  the  ground,  j 

The  dances  ended,  all  the  fairy  train 

For  pinks  and  dailies  fearch'd  the  flow'ry  plain ; 

While  on  a  bank  reclin'd  of  rifing  green, 

Thus,  with  a  frown,  the  King  befpoke  his  Queen. 

vris  too  apparent,  argue  what  you  can, 
The  treachery  you  women  ufe  to  man  : 
A  thoufand  authors  have  this  truth  made  out, 
And  fad  experience  leaves  no  room  for  doubt. 

Heav'n  reft  thy  fpirit,  noble  Solomon, 
A  wifer  monarch  never  faw  the  fun: 
All  wealth,  all  honours,  the  fupreme  degree 
Of  earthly  blifs,  was  well  beftow'd  on  thee ! 
For  fagely  haft  thou  faid  ;    Of  all  mankind, 
One  only  juft,  and  righteous,  hope  to  find : 

H  h  But 


23+  JANUARY    and    MAT. 

But  ihould'ft  thou  fearch  the  fpacious  world  around, 
Yet  one  good  woman  were  not  to  be  found. 

Thus  fays  the  King  who  knew  your  wickednefs  ; 
The  fon  of  Sirach  teftifies  no  lefs. 
So  may  fome  wildfire  on  your  bodies  fall, 
Or  fome  devouring  plague  confume  you  all ; 
As  well  you  view  the  Leacher  in  the  tree, 

w 

And  well  this  honourable  knight  you  fee : 
But  fince  he's  blind  and  old,  (a  helplefs  cafe) 
His  fquire  fliall  cuckold  him  before  your  face. 

Now  by  my  own  dread  majefty  I  fwear, 
And  by  this  awful  fcepter  which  I  bear, 
No  impious  wretch  fhall  Tcape  unpunifh'd  long, 
That  in  my  prefence  offers  fuch  a  wrong. 
I  will  this  inftant  undeceive  the  knight, 
And,  in  the  very  a6t,  reftore  his  fight : 
And  fet  the  ftrumpet  here  in  open  view, 
A  warning  to  thefe  Ladies,  and  to  you, 
And  all  the  faithlefs  fex,  for  ever  to  be  true.  j 


i 


And 


JANUARY   and    MAT  235 

And  will  you  fo,  reply'd  the  Queen,  indeed  ? 
Now,  by  my  mother's  foul,  it  is  decreed, 
She  fhall  not  want  an  anfwer  at  her  need. 
For  her,  and  for  her  daughters,  I'll  engage, 
And  all  the  fex  in  each  fucceeding  age  ; 
Art  fhall  be  theirs  to  varnifh  an  offence, 
And  fortify  their  crimes  with  confidence. 
Nay,  were  they  taken  in  a  ftricft  embrace, 
Seen  with  both  eyes,  and  pinion'd  on  the  place ; 
All  they  fliall  need  is  to  proteft,  and  fwear, 
Breath  a  foft  figh,  and  drop  a  tender  tear ; 
Till  their  wife  husbands,  gull'd  by  arts  like  thefe, 
Grow  gentle,  tradable,  and  tame  as  geefe. 

What  tho'  this  flandrous  Jew,  this  Solomon, 
Call'd  women  fools,  and  knew  full  many  a  one? 
The  wifer  wits  of  later  times  declare, 
How  conftant,  chaft,  and  virtuous,  women  are : 
Witnefs  the  martyrs,  who  refign'd  their  breath, 
Serene  in  torments,  unconcern'd  in  death ; 

H  h  2  And 


2^6  JANUARY    and    MAT. 

And  witnefs  next  what  Roman  authors  tell, 
How  Arria,  Portia,  and  Lucretia  fell. 

But  fince  the  facred  leaves  to  all  are  free, 
And  men  interpret  texts,  why  Jhou'd  not  we  ? 
By  this  no  more  was  meant,  than  to  have  fhown, 
That  fov'reign  goodnefs  dwells  in  Him  alone ; 


i 


Who  only  is,  and  is  but  only  one.  J 

But  grant  the  worft;  fhall  women  then»be  weigh 'd 
By  ev'ry  word  that  Solomon  has  faid  ? 
What  tho'  this  King  (as  ancient  ftory  boafts) 
Built  a  fair  temple  to  the  Lord  of  hofts ; 
He  ceas'd  at  laft  his  Maker  to  adore, 
And  did  as  much  for  Idol-gods,  or  more. 
Beware  what  lavifli  praifes  you  confer 
On  a  rank  leacher  and  idolater ; 
Whofe  reign  indulgent  God,  fays  holy  writ, 
Did  but  for  David's  righteous  fake  permit ; 
David,  the  monarch  after  heav'ns  own  mind, 
Who  lov'd  our  fex,  and  honour'd  all  our  kind. 

Well, 


7 A  NUA  RT    and    MAT.  237 

Well,  I'm  a  woman,  and  as  fuch  muft  fpeak ; 
Silence  would  fwell  me,  and  my  heart  would  break. 
Know  then,  I  fcorn  your  dull  authorities, 
Your  idle  wits,  and  all  their  learned  lies. 
By  heav'n,  thofe  authors  are  our  fex's  foes, 
Whom,  in  our  right,  I  muft,  and  will  oppofe. 

Nay  (quoth  the  King)  dear  Madam  be  not  wroth  • 
I  yield  it  up  ;   but  fmce  I  gave  my  oath, 
That  this  much-injurM  knight  again  fhou'd  fee; 
It  muft  be  done — I  am  a  King,  faid  he, 
And  one,  whofe  faith  has  ever  facred  been. 

And  fo  has  mine,  (ihe  faid) — I  am  a  Queen  I 
Her  anfwer  Ihe  fhall  have,  I  undertake ; 
And  thus  an  end  of  all  difpute  I  make : 
Try  when  you  lift  ;   and  you  fliall  find,  my  Lord, 
It  is  not  in  our  fex  to  break  our  word. 

We  leave  them  here  in  this  heroic  ftrain, 
And  to  the  knight  our  ftory  turns  again; 
Who  in  the  garden,  with  his  lovely  Mayy 
Sung  merrier  than  the  Cuckow  or  the  Jay : 

This 


38  JANUARY    and    MAT 

This  was  his  fong ;  "  Oh  kind  and  conftant  be, 
"  Conftant  and  kind  I'll  ever  prove  to  thee. 

Thus  Tinging  as  he  went,  at  laft  he  drew 
By  eafy  fteps  to  where  the  Peartree  grew  : 
The  longing  dame  look'd  up,  and  fpy'd  her  Love 
Full  fairly  perch 'd  among  the  boughs  above. 
She  ftopp'd,  and  fighing :  oh  good  Gods,  flie  cry'd, 
What  pangs,  what  fudden  flioots  diftend  my  fide  ? 
O  for  that  tempting  fruit,  fo  frefh,  fo  green ; 
Help,  for  the  love  of  heav'n's  immortal  Queen ! 
Help,  dearefl  lord,  and  fave  at  once  the  life 
Of  thy  poor  infant,  and  thy  longing  wife ! 

Sore  figh'd  the  knight  to  hear  his  Lady's  cry, 
But  cou'd  not  climb,  and  had  no  fervant  nigh : 
Old  as  he  was,  and  void  of  eyefight  too, 
What  cou'd,  alas !  the  helplefs  husband  do  ? 
And  muft  I  languifh  then,  flie  faid,  and  die, 
Yet  view  the  lovely  fruit  before  my  eye  ? 
At  leaft,  kind  Sir,  for  charity's  fweet  fake, 
Vouchfafe  the  trunk  between  your  arms  to  take ; 

4      Then 


JANUARY    and    MAT.  239 

Then  from  your  back  I  might  afcend  the  tree ; 
Do  you  but  ftoop,  and  leave  the  reft  to  me. 

With  all  my  foul,  he  thus  reply'd  again, 
I'd  fpend  my  deareft  blood  to  eafe  thy  pain ; 
With  that,  his  back  againft  the  trunk  he  bent, 
She  feiiz'd  a  twig,  and  up  the  tree  fhe  went. 

Now  prove  your  patience,  gentle  Ladies  all  I 
Nor  let  on  me  your  heavy  anger  fall : 
'Tis  truth  I  tell,  tho'  not  in  phrafe  refin'd ; 
Tho'  blunt  my  tale,  yet  honeft  is  my  mind. 
What  feats  the  Lady  in  the  tree  might  do? 
I  pafs,  as  gambols  never  known  to  you; 
But  fure  it  was  a  merrier  fit,  fhe  fwore, 
Than  in  her  life  fhe  ever  felt  before. 

In  that  nice  moment,   lo !   the  wond'ring  knight 
Look'd  out,  and  ftood  reftor'd  to  fudden  fight. 
Strait  on  the  tree  his  eager  eyes  he  bent, 
As  one  whofe  thoughts  were  on  his  fpoufe  intent ;; 
But  when  he  faw  his  bofom-wife  fo  dreft, 
His  rage  was  fuch  as  cannot  be  expreft : 


2+o  JAN  U A  R  T    and    MA  T 

Not  frantic  mothers  when  their  infants  die, 
With  louder  clamours  rend  the  vaulted  sky : 
He  cry'd,  he  roar'd,  he  ftorm'd,  he  tore  his  hair  ; 
Death  !  hell !  and  furies !  what  doft  thou  do  there  ? 

What  ails  my  lord,  the  trembling  dame  reply'd, 
I  thought  your  patience  had  been  better  try'd : 
Is  this  your  love,  ungrateful  and  unkind, 
This  my  reward  for  having  cur'd  the  blind  ? 
Why  was  I  taught  to  make  my  husband  fee, 
By  ftrugling  with  a  man  upon  a  tree? 
Did  I,  for  this,  the  pow'r  of  magic  prove  ? 
Unhappy  wife,  whofe  crime  was  too  much  love ! 

If  this  be  ftrugling,  by  this  holy  light, 
'Tis  ftrugling  with  a  vengeance,  (quoth  the  knight) 
So  heav'n  preferve  the  fight  it  has  reftor'd, 
As  with  thefe  eyes  I  plainly  faw  thee  whor'd ; 
Whor'd  by  my  flave — perfidious  wretch  !  may  hell 
As  furely  feize  thee,  as  I  faw  too  well. 

Guard  me,  good  angels !  cry'd  the  gentle  May, 
Pray  heav'n,  this  magic  work  the  proper  way ! 

Alas. 


JANUARY    and    MAT  241 

Alas,  my  love !  'tis  certain,  could  you  fee, 
You  ne'er  had  us'd  thefe  killing  words  to  me : 
So  help  me  fates,  as  'tis  no  perfect  fight, 
But  fome  faint  glimm'ring  of  a  doubtful  light. 

What  I  have  faid,  (quoth  he)  I  muft  maintain. 
For  by  th'  immortal  pow'rs,  it  feenfd  too  plain — 
By  all  thofe  pow'rs,  fome  frenzy  feiz'd  your  mind,} 
(Reply 'd  the  dame)  are  thefe  the  thanks  I  find?  > 
Wretch  that  I  am,  that  e'er  I  was  fo  kind !  ) 

She  faid ;  a  rifing  figh  exprefs'd  her  woe, 
The  ready  tears  apace  began  to  flow, 
And  as  they  fell,  Ihe  wip'd  from  either  eye 
The  drops,  (for  women,  when  they  lift,  can  cry.) 
The  knight  was  touch'd,  and  in  his  looks  appear'd 
Signs  of  remorfe,  while  thus  his  fpoufe  he  chear'd. 
Madam,  'tis  paft,  and  my  fhort  anger  o'er; 
Come  down,  and  vex  your  tender  heart  no  more: 
Excufe  me,  dear,  if  ought  amifs  was  faid, 
For,  on  my  foul,  amends  fliall  foon  be  made; 

I  i  Let 


2+2  JANUARY    and    M  A  T. 

Let  my  repentance  your  forgivenefs  draw, 
By  heav'n,  T  fwore  but  what  I  thought  I  faw. 

Ah  my  lov'd  Lord !  'twas  much  unkind  (lhe  cry'd) 
On  bare  fufpicion  thus  to  treat  your  bride. 
But  till  your  fight's  eftabliih'd,  for  a  while, 
Imperfect  objects  may  your  fenfe  beguile. 
Thus  when  from  lleep  we  firft  our  eyes  difplay,      } 
The  balls  feem  wounded  with  the  piercing  ray,      > 
And  dusky  vapours  rife,  and  intercept  the  day.        j 
So  juft  recov'ring  from  the  fhades  of  night,  } 

Your  fwimming  eyes  are  drunk  with  fudden  light,      C 
Strange  phantoms  dance  around,  and  skim  before  your  ) 
fight.  ' 

Then,  Sir,  be  cautious,  nor  too  ralhly  deem ; 
Heav'n  knows  how  feldom  things  are  what  they  feem ! 
Confult  your  reafon,  and  you  foon  fhall  find 
'Twas  you  were-  jealous,  not  your  wife  unkind  : 
Jove  ne'er  fpoke  oracle  more  true  than  this, 
None  judge  fo  wrong  as  thofe  who  think  amifs. 

With 


JANUARY    and    MAT. 

With  that,  Jhe  leap'd  into  her  Lord's  embrace, 
With  well-difTembled  virtue  in  her  face : 
He  hugg'd  her  clofe,  and  kifs'd  her  o'er  and  o'er, 
Difturb'd  with  doubts  and  jealoufies  no  more : 
Both,  pleas'd  and  blefs'd,  renew 'd  their  mutual  vows, 
A  fruitful  wife,  and  a  believing  fpoufe. 

Thus  ends  our  tale,  whofe  moral  next  to  make, 
Let  all  wife  husbands  hence  example  take, 
And  pray,  to  crown  the  pleafures  of  their  lives, 
To  be  fo  well  deluded  by  their  wives. 


243 


Ii  2 


THE 


wmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm 


T    H    E 


WIFE   of  BA  TH 


HER 


PROLOGUE, 


FROM 


CHAUCER. 


&MOTraraMra$§g»«ra§WsgM$M»»§£ . 


V 


S:  Grill  dm  mctfculf 


T   H   E 


WIFE    oi  EA  TH. 


FROM 


CHAUCER. 


Ehold     the    woes    of    matrimonial 
life, 
And  hear  with  rev'rence  an  expe- 
rience wife! 
To  dear-bought  wifdom  give  the  credit  due, 
And  think,  for  once,  a  woman  tells  you  true. 
In  all  thefe  trials  I  have  born  a  part ; 
I  was  my  felf  the  fcourge  that  caus'd  the  fmart ; 

For, 


2+S  The   WIFE   of  BATH. 

For,  fince  fifteen,  in  triumph  have  I  led 

Five  captive  husbands  from  the  church  to  bed. 

Chrift  faw  a  wedding  once,  the  fcripture  fays, 
And  faw  but  one,  'tis  thought,  in  all  his  days; 
Whence  fome  infer,  whofe  confcience  is  too  nice, 
No  pious  Chriftian  ought  to  marry  twice. 

But  let  them  read,  and  folve  me,  if  they  can, 
The  words  addrefs'd  to  the  Samaritan : 
Five  times  in  lawful  wedlock  fhe  was  join'd  ; 
And  fure  the  certain  Hint  was  ne'er  defin'd. 

Encreafe  and  multiply  was  heav'ns  command, 
And  that's  a  text  I  clearly  underftand. 
This  too,  "  Let  men  their  fires  and  mothers  leave 
"  And  to  their  dearer  wives  for  ever  cleave. 
More  wives  than  one  by  Solomon  were  try'd, 
Or  elfe  the  wifeft  of  mankind's  bely'd. 
I've  had  my  felf  full  many  a  merry  fit, 
And  trull  ii    heav'h  I  may  have  many  yet. 


For 


The   Wl  FE  of  BATH.  249 


I 


For  when  my  tranfitory  fpoufe,  unkind, 

Shall  die,  and  leave  his  woful  wife  behind, 

I'll  take  the  next  good  Chriftian  I  can  find.  ) 

Paul,  knowing  one  could  never  ferve  our  turn, 
Declar'd  'twas  better  far  to  wed,  than  burn ; 
There's  danger  in  aflembling  fire  and  tow, 
I  grant  'em  that,  and  what  it  means  you  know. 
The  fame  Apoftle  too  has  elfewhere  own'd 
No  precept  for  virginity  he  found : 

*Tis  but  a  counfel and  we  women  ftill 

Take  which  we  like,  the  counfel,  or  our  will 

I  envy  not  their  blifs,  if  he  or  fhe 
Think  fit  to  live  in  perfect  chaftity, 
Pure  let  them  be,  and  free  from  taint  of  vice ; 
I,  for  a  few  flight  fpots,  am  not  fo  nice. 
Heav'n  calls  us  difF'rent  ways,  on  thefe  bellows 
One  proper  gift,  another  grants  to  thofe : 
Not  ev'ry  man's  oblig'd  to  fell  his  ftore, 
And  give  up  all  his  fubftance  to  the  poor ; 

K  k  Such 


250  The    WIFE    of  BATH. 

Such  as  are  perfc^,  may,  I  can't  deny ; 
But,  by  your  x^.v,  divines,  fo  am  not  I. 

Full  many  a  faint,  fince  firft  the  world  began, 
Liv'd  an  unfpotted  maid  in  fpite  of  man : 
Let  fuch  (a  God's  name)  with  fine  wheat  be  fed, 
And  let  us  honeft  wives  eat  barly  bread. 
For  me,  I'll  keep  the  poft  affign'd  by  heav'n, 
And  ufe  the  copious  talent  it  has  giv'n  ; 
Let  my  good  fpoufe  pay  tribute,  do  me  right, 
And  keep  an  equal  reckning  ev'ry  night ; 
His  proper  body  is  not  his,  but  mine ; 
For  fo  faid  Paul,  and  PauTs  a  found  divine. 

Know  then,  of  thofe  five  husbands  I  have  had, 
Three  were  juft  tolerable,   two  were  bad. 
The  three  were  old,  but  rich  and  fond  befide, 
And  toiPd  raoft  piteoufly  to  pleafe  their  bride : 
But  fince  their  wealth  (the  belt  they  had)  was  mine, 
The  reft,  without  much  lofs,  I  could  refign. 
Sure  to  be  lov.'d,  I  took  no  pains  ta  pleafe, 
Yet  had  more  pleafure  far  than  they  had  eafe. 

Prefents 


The    WIFE   of  BATH.  251 

Prefents  flow'd  in  apace :  with  fhow'rs  of  gold, 
They  made  their  court,  like  Jupiter  bf  old, 
If  I  but  fmiFd,  a  fudden  youth  they  found, 
And  a  new  palfy  feifc'd  them  when  \  frown'd. 

Ye  fov'reign  wives !  give  ear,  and  underftand ; 
Thus  lhall  ye  fpeak,  and  exercife  command. 
For  never  was  it  giv'n  to  mortal  man, 
To  lye  fo  boldly  as  we  women  can. 
Forfwear  the  fa&,  tho'  feen  with  both  his  eyes, 
And  call  your  maids  to  witnefs  how  he  lies. 

Hark  old  Sir  Paul  ('twas  thus  I  us'd  to  fay) 
Whence  is  our  neighbour's  wife  fo  rich  and  gay? 
Treated,  carefs'd,  where-e'er  file's  pleas'd  to  roam — - 
I  fit  in  tatters,  and  immur'd  at  home ! 
Why  to  her  houfe  doft  thou  fb  oft  repair  ? 
Art  thou  fo  am'rous  ?  and  is  fhe  fo  fair  ? 
If  I  but  fee  a  coufin  or  a  friend, 
Lord !  how  you  fwell,  and  rage  like  any  fiend ! 
But  you  reel  home,  a  drunken  beaftly  bear, 
Then  preach  till  midnight  in  your  eafy  chair ; 

K  k  2  Cry 


252  The   WIFE   of  BATH. 

Cry  wives  are  falfe,  and  ev'ry  woman  evil, 
And  give  up  all  that's  female  to  the  devil. 

If  poor  (you  fay)  lhe  drains  her  husband's  purfe  • 
If  rich,  flie  keeps  her  Prieft,  or  fomething  worfe ; 
If  highly  born,  intolerably  vain ; 
Vapours  and  pride  by  turns  poffefs  her  brain : 
Now  gaily  mad,  now  fourly  fplenatic, 
Freakifli  when  well,  and  fretful  when  file's  fick. 
If  fair,  then  chafte  flie  cannot  long  abide, 
By  prefling  youth  attack'd  on  ev'ry  fide. 
If  foul,  her  wealth  the  lufty  lover  lures, 
Or  elfe  her  wit  fome  fool-gallant  procures, 
Or  elfe  flie  dances  with  becoming  grace, 
Or  fliape  excufes  the  defers  of  face. 
There  fwims  no  goofe  fo  grey,  but,  foon  or  late? 
She  finds  fome  honeft  gander  for  her  mate. 

Horfes  (thou  fay'ft)  and  afles  men  may  try, 
And  ring  fufpedted  veflels  e're  they  buy : 
But  wives,  a  random  choice,  untry'd  they  take, 
They  dream  in  courtfliip,  but  in  wedlock  wake ; 

Theiiy 


« 


The   WIFE   of  BATH.  253 

Then,  nor  till  then,  the  veil's  remov'd  away, 
And  all  the  woman  glares  in  open  day. 

You  tell  me,  to  prefer ve  your  wife's  good  grace, 
Your  eyes  muft  always  languifh  on  my  face, 
Your  tongue  with  conftant  flatt'ries  feed  my  ear, 
And  tag  each  fentence  with,  My  life!  my  dear! 
If,  by  ftrange  chance,  a  modeft  blufli  be  rais'd, 
Be  fure  my  fine  complexion  muft  be  prais'd : 
My  garments  always  muft  be  new  and  gay, 
And  feafts  ftill  kept  upon  my  wedding-day : 
Then  muft  my  Nurfe  be  pleas'd,  and  fav'rite  maid ; 
And  endlefs  treats,  and  endlefs  vifits  paid, 
To  a  long  train  of  kindred,  friends,  allies ; 
All  this  thou  fay'ft,  and  all  thou  fay 'ft  are  lies* 

On  Jenkin  too  you  caft  a  fquinting  eye  \ 
What  ?  can  your  prentice  raife  your  jealoufy  ? 
Frefli  are  his  ruddy  cheeks,  his  forehead  fair, 
And  like  the  burnifh'd  gold  his  curling  hair. 
But  clear  thy  wrinkled  brow,  and  quit  thy  fbrrow, 
I'd  fcorn  your  prentice,  fliould  you  die  to  morrow. 


254  The    WIFE   of  BATH. 

Why  are  thy  cherts  all  lock'd?  on  what  defign? 
Are  not  thy  worldly  goods  and  treafure  mine? 
Sir,  I'm  no  fool :    nor  fhall  you,  by  St.  John, 
Have  goods  and  body  to  your  felf  alone. 
One  you  fhall  quit — in  fpight  of  both  your  eyes — 
I  heed  not,  I,  the  bolts,  the  locks,  the  fpies. 
If  you  had  wit,  you'd  fay,  "  Go  where  you  will, 
"  Dear  fpoufe,  I  credit  not  the  tales  they  tell. 
"  Take  all  the  freedoms  of  a  married  life ; 
"  I  know  thee  for  a  virtuous,  faithful  wife. 

Lord !  when  you  have  enough,  what  need  you  care 
How  merrily  foever  others  fare? 
Tho'  all  the  day  I  take  and  give  delight, 
Doubt  not,  fufficient  will  be  left  at  night. 
'Tis  but  a  juft  and  rational  defire, 
To  light  a  taper  at  a  neighbour's  fire. 

There's  danger  too,  you  think,  in  rich  array, 
And  none  can  long  be  modeft  that  are  gay. 
The  Cat,  if  you  but  findge  her  tabby. skin, 
The  chimney  .keeps,  and  fits  content  within  ; 

But 


The    WIFE   of  BATH.  255 

But  once  grow  fleek,  will  from  her  corner  run, 
Sport  with  her  tail,  and  wanton  in  the  fun ; 
She  licks  her  fair  round  face,  and  frisks  abroad 
To  fhow  her  furr,  and  to  be  catterwaw'd. 

Lo  thus,  my  friends,  I  wrought  to  my  defires 
Thefe  three  right  ancient,  venerable  fires. 
I  told  'em,  Thus  you  fay,  and  thus  you  do— 
And  told  'em  falfe,  but  Jenkin  fwore  'twas  true. 
I,  like  a  dog,  could  bite  as  well  as  whine : 
And  firft  complain'd,  whene'er  the  guilt  was  mine: 
I  tax'd  them  oft'  with  wenching  and  amours, 
When  their  weak  legs  fcarce  dragg'd  'em  out  of  doors ; 
And  fwore  the  rambles  that  I  took  by  night, 
Were  all  to  fpy  what  damfels  they  bedight. 
That  colour  brought  me  many  hours  of  mirth  ; 
For  all  this  wit  is  giv'n  us  from  our  birth : 
Heav'n  gave  to  woman  the  peculiar  grace 
To  fpin,  to  weep,  and  cully  human  race. 
By  this  nice  conduit  and  this  prudent  courfe, 
By  murm'ring,  wheedling,  ftratagem  and  force, 

I  ftill 


256  The   WIFE   of  BATH. 

I  ftill  prevail'd,  and  would  be  in  the  right, 

Or  curtain-le&ures  made  a  reftlefs  night. 

If  once  my  husband's  arm  was  o'er  my  fide, 

What  ?  fo  familiar  with  your  fpoufe  ?  I  cry'd : 

I  levied  firft  a  tax  upon  his  need, 

Then  let  him — 'twas  a  nicety  indeed ! 

Let  all  mankind  this  certain  maxim  hold, 

Marry  who  will,  our  Sex  is  to  be  fold ! 

With  empty  hands  no  taflels  you  can  lure, 

But  fulfom  love  for  gain  we  can  endure : 

For  gold  we  love  the  impotent  and  old, 

And  heave,  and  pant,  and  kifs,  and  cling,  for  gold. 

Yet  with  embraces,  curfes  oft'  I  mixt, 

Then  kifsM  again,  and  chid  and  rail'd  betwixt. 

Well,  I  may  make  my  will  in  peace,  and  die, 

For  not  one  word  in  man's  arrears  am  I. 

To  drop  a  dear  difpute  I  was  unable, 

Ev'n  tho'  the  Pope  himfelf  had  fate  at  table. 

But  when  my  point  was  gain'd,  then  thus  I  fpoke, 

"  Billy,  my  dear,  how  flicepifhly  you  look  ? 

"  Approach 


I 


The    WIFE   of  BATH.  257 

ft  Approach,  my  fpoufe,  and  let  me  kifs  thy  cheek; 

"  Thou  ftiould'ft  be  always  thus,  refign'd  and  meek ! 

Ci  Of  Job's  great  patience  fince  fo  oft'  you  preach, 

"  Well  fhould  you  pra6tife,  who  fo  well  can  teach. 

"  'Tis  difficult  to  do,  I  muft  allow, 

"  But  I,  my  deareft,  will  inftrucft  you  how. 

"  Great  is  the  blefling  of  a  prudent  wife, 

"  Who  puts  a  period  to  domeftic  ftrife ! 

"  One  of  us  two  muft  rule,  and  one  obey; 

"  And  fince  in  man  right  reafon  bears  the  fway, 

"  Let  that  frail  thing,  weak  woman,  have  her  way.) 

"  The  wives  of  all  our  race  have  ever  rul'd 

"  Their  tender  husbands,  and  their  paflions  cool'd. 

"  Fye,  'tis  unmanly  thus  to  figh  and  groan ; 

"  What  ?  would  you  have  me  to  your  felf  alone  ? 

"  Why  take  me,  Love !  take  all  and  ev'ry  part ! 

"  Here's  your  revenge  !  you  love  it  at  your  heart. 

(i  Would  I  vouchfafe  to  fell  what  nature  gave, 

"  You  little  think  what  cuftom  I  could  have? 

L  1  «  But 


258  The    WIFE   of  BATH. 

"  But  fee !  I'm  all  your  own — nay  hold — for  fhame ! 
"  What  means  my  dear — indeed — you  are  to  blame. 
,  Thus  with  my  firft  three  Lords  I  part  my  life ; 
A  very  woman,  and  a  very  wife ! 
What  fums  from  thefe  old  fpoufes  I  could  raife, 
Procured  young  husbands  in  my  riper  days. 
Tho'  paft  my  bloom,  not  yet  decay'd  was  I, 
Wanton  and  wild,  and  chatter 'd  like  a  Pye. 
In  country  dances  ftill  I  bore  the  bell7 
And  fung  as  fweet  as  evening  Philomel. 
To  clear  my  quail-pipe,  and  refrelh  my  foul, 
Full  oft5 1  drain'd  the  fpicy  nut-brown  bowl ; 
Rich  lufcious  wines,  that  youthful  blood  improve, 
And  warm  the  fwelling  veins  to  feats  of  love. 
For  'tis  as  fure,  as  cold  ingenders  hail, 
A  liqu'rifli  mouth  muft  have  a  lech'rous  tail  -T 
Wine  lets^  no  lover  unrewarded  go, 
As  all  true  gamefters  by  experience  know. 

But  oh  good  Gods  I  whene'er  a  thought  I  call. 
On  all  the  joys  of  youth  and  beauty  paft, 

To 


The    WIFE   of  B  A  T  H,  259 

To  find  in  pleafures  I  have  had  my  part, 
Still  warms  me  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 
This  wicked  world  was  once  my  dear  delight ; 
Now  all  my  conquefts,  all  my  charms  good  night ! 
The  flour  confum'd,  the  beft  that  now  I  can, 
Is  e'en  to  make  my  market  of  the  bran. 

My  fourth  dear  fpoufe  was  not  exceeding  true ; 
He  kept,  'twas  thought,  a  private  mifs  or  two : 
But  all  that  fcore  I  paid — as  how  ?  you'll  lay, 
Not  with  my  body,  in  a  filthy  way — 
But  I  fo  drefs'd,  and  danc'd,  and  drank,  and  din'd ; 
And  view'd  a  friend,  with  eyes  fo  very  kind, 
As  ftung  his  heart,  and  made  his  marrow  fry 
With  burning  rage,  and  frantic  jealoufy. 
His  foul,  I  hope,  enjoys  perpetual  glory, 
For  here  on  earth  I  was  his  purgatory. 
Oft',  when  his  flioe  the  moft  feverely  wrung, 
He  put  on  carelefs  airs,  and  fate  and  fung. 
How  fore  I  gall'd  him,  only  heav'n  could  know, 

And  he  that  felt,  and  I  that  caus'd  the  woe. 

L  1  2  He 


26o  The    WIFE    of  BATH. 

He  dy'd  when  laft  from  pilgrimage  I  came, 
With  other  goflips,  from  Jerufalem ; 
And  now  lies  buried  underneath  a  Rood, 
Fair  to  be  feen,  and  rear'd  of  honeft  wood. 
A  tomb,  indeed,  with  fewer  fculptures  grac'd, 
Than  that  Maufolus'  pious  widow  plac'd, 
Or  where  inihrin'd  the  great  'Darius  lay ; 
But  coft  on  graves  is  merely  thrown  away. 
The  pit  fill'd  up,  with  turf  we  cover'd  o'er  ; 
So  blefs  the  good  man's  foul,  I  fay  no  more. 

Now  for  my  fifth  lov'd  Lord,  the  laft  and  beft ; 
(Kind  heav'n  afford  him  everlafting  reft) 
Full  hearty  was  his  love,  and  I  can  fhew 
The  tokens  on  my  ribs,  in  black  and  blew : 
Yet,  with  a  knack,  my  heart  he  could  have  won, 
While  yet  the  fmart  was  ihooting  in  the  bone. 
How  quainf^an  appetite  in  women  reigns  ! 
Free  gifts  we  fcorn,  and  love  what  cofts  us  pains : 
Let  men  avoid  us,  and  on  them  we  leap; 
A  glutted  market  makes  provifion  cheap. 

In 


The   WIFE   of  BATH.  261 

In  pure  good  will  I  took  this  jovial  fpark, 
Of  Oxford  he,  a  moft  egregious  clerk  : 
He  boarded  with  a  widow  in  the  town, 
A  trufty  goflip,  one  dame  Altfon. 
Full  well  the  fecrets  of  my  foul  fhe  knew, 
Better  than  e'er  our  parilh  Prieft  could  do. 
To  her  I  told  whatever  could  befall ; 
Had  but  my  husband  pifs'd  againft  a  wall, 
Or  done  a  thing  that  might  have  coft  his  life, 
She — and  my  niece — and  one  more  worthy  wife, 
Had  known  it  all :  what  moft  he  would  conceal, 
To  thefe  I  made  no  fcruple  to  reveal. 
Oft'  has  he  blufh'd  from  ear  to  ear  for  lhame, 
That  e'er  he  told  a  fecret  to  his  dame. 

It  fo  befel,  in  holy  time  of  Lent, 
That  oft'  a  day  I  to  this  goflip  went ; 
(My  husband,  thank  my  ftars,  was  out  of  town) 
From  houfe  to  houfe  we  rambled  up  and  down, 
This  clerk,  my  felf,  and  my  good  neighbour  Alee, 
To  fee,  be  feen,  to  tell,  and  gather  tales; 

Vifits 


1 


262  The   WIFE   of  BATH. 

Vifits  to  ev'ry  Church  we  daily  paid, 

And  march'd  in  ev'ry  holy  Mafquerade, 

The  flations  duly,  and  the  vigils  kept ; 

Not  much  we  failed,  but  fcarce  ever  flept. 

At  fermons  too  I  fhone  in  fcarlet  gay ; 

The  wafting  moth  ne'er  fpoil'd  my  bell  array ; 

The  caufe  was  this ;  I  wore  it  ev'ry  day.  ) 

'Twas  when  frefh  May  her  early  bloffoms  yields, 
The  clerk  and  I  were  walking  in  the  fields. 
We  grew  fo  intimate,  I  can't  tell  how, 
I  pawn'd  my  honour,  and  engag'd  my  vow, 
If  e'er  I  laid  my  husband  in  his  urn, 
That  he,  and  only  he,  fhould  ferve  my  turn. 
We  flrait  flruck  hands ;    the  bargain  was  agreed  ; 
I  ftill  have  fhifts  againft  a  time  of  need  : 
The  moufe  that  always  trufts  to  one  poor  hole, 
Can  never  be  a  moufe  of  any  foul. 

I  vow'd,  I  fcarce  could  fleep  fince  firft  I  knew  him, 
And  durft  be  fworn  he  had  bewitch 'd  me  to  him : 


if 


2 


The   WIFE   of  BATH.  263 

If  e'er  I  flept,  I  dream'd  of  him  alone, 

And  dreams  foretel,  as  learned  men  have  fliown:'. 

All  this  I  faid;   but  Dream,  firs,  I  had  none,        ) 

I  follow'd  but  my  crafty  crony's  lore, 

Who  bid  me  tell  this  lye — and  twenty  more. 

Thus  day  by  day,  and  month  by  month  we  paft ; 
It  pleas'd  the  Lord  to  take  my  fpoufe  at  laft ! 
I  tore  my  gown,  I  foiPd  my  locks  with  duft, 
And  beat  my  breafts,  as  wretched  widows — mud. 
Before  my  face  my  handkerchief  I  fpread, 
To  hide  the  flood  of  tears  I  did — not  fhed. 
The  good  man's  coffin  to  the  Church  was  born ; 
Around,  the  neighbours,  and  my  clerk  too,  mourn. 
But  as  he  march'd,  good  Gods !  he  fhow'd  a  pair 
Of  legs  and  feet,  fo  clean,  fo  ftrong,  fo  fair ! 
Of  twenty  winters  age  he  feem'd  to  be ; 
I  (to  fay  truth)  was  twenty  more  than  he ; 
But  vig'rous  ftill,  a  lively  buxom  dame ; 
And  had  a  wond'rous  gift  to  quench  a  flame. 

A  con- 


2£+  The   WIFE   of  BATH. 

A  Conjurer  once,  that  deeply  could  divine, 
Aflur'd  me,  Mars  in  Taurus  was  my  fign. 
As  the  ftars  order'd,  fuch  my  life  has  been : 
Alas,  alas,  that  ever  love  was  fin ! 
Fair  Venus  gave  me  fire,  and  fprightly  grace, 
And  Mars  aflfurance,  and  a  dauntlefs  face. 
By  virtue  of  this  pow'rful  conftellation, 
I  follow'd  always  my  own  inclination. 

But  to  my  tale :    a  month  fcarce  pafs'd  aways, 
With  dance  and  fong  we  kept  the  nuptial  day. 
AH  I  poflefs'd  I  gave  to  his  command, 
My  goods  and  chattels,  mony,  houfe,  and  land : 
But  oft'  repented,  and  repent  it  ftill ; 
He  prov'd  a  rebel  to  my  fov'reign  will : 
Nay  once  by  heav'n  he  flruck  me  on  the  face  ; 
Hear  but  the  fad:,  and  judge  your  felves  the  cafe. 

Stubborn  as  any  lionefs  was  I ; 
And  knew  full  well  to  raife  my  voice  on  high ; 
As  true  a  rambler  as  I  was  before, 
And  would  be  fo;  in  fpight  of  all  he  fwore. 

He, 


The   WIFE  of  BAT  H.  2^5 

He,  againfl:  this,  right  fagely  would  advife, 
And  old  examples  fet  before  my  eyes; 
Tell  how  the  Roman  matrons  led  their  life, 
Of  Gracchus'  mother,  and  Duilius'  wife  ; 
And  chofe  the  fermon,  as  befeem'd  his  wit, 
With  fome  grave  fentence  out  of  holy  writ. 
Oft'  would  he  fay,  Who  builds  his  houfe  on  fands, 
Pricks  his  blind  horfe  acrofs  the  fallow  lands, 
Or  lets  his  wife  abroad  with  pilgrims  roam, 
Deferves  a  fools-cap  and  long  ears  at  home. 
All  this  availed  not ;    for  whoe'er  he  be 
That  tells  my  faults,  I  hate  him  mortally : 
And  fo  do  numbers  more,  I'll  boldly  fay, 
Men,  women,  clergy,  regular,  and  lay. 

My  fpoufe  (who  was,  you  know,  to  learning  bred) 
A  certain  treatife  oft'  at  evening  read, 
Where  divers  authors  (whom  the  dev'l  confound 
For  all  their  lies)  were  in  one  volume  bound. 
Valerius ,  whole ;    and  of  St.  Jerome ',  part ; 
Chryjippus  and  Tertuttian ;  Ovid's  Art ; 

M  m  Solomon's 


266  The    WIFE   of  BATH. 

Solomons*  proverbs,  Eloifa's  loves ; 

And  many  more  than  fure  the  Church  approves. 

More  legends  were  there  here,  of  wicked  wives, 

Than  good,  in  all  the  Bible  and  Saint's-lives. 

Who  drew  the  Lion  vanquilh'd  ?  'Twas  a  Man. 

But  cou'd  we  women  write  as  fcholars  can, 

Men  fliould  ftand  mark'd  with  far  more  wickednefs, 

Than  all  the  fbns  of  Adam  can  redrefs. 

Love  feldom  haunts  the  breaft  where  learning  lies, 

And  Venus  fets  e're  Mercury  can  rife, 

Thofe  play  the  fcholars  who  can't  play  the  men .; 

And  ufe  that  weapon  which  they  have,  their  pen;. 

When  old,  and  paft  the  relilh  of  delight, 

Then  down  they  fit,  and  in  their  dotage  write 

That  not  one  woman  keeps  her  marriage  vow. 

(This  by  the  way,  but  to  my  purpofe  now.) 

It  chanc'd  my  husband,  on  a  winter's  night, 
Read  in  this  book,  aloud,  with  ftrange  delight, 
How  the  firft  female  (as  the  fcriptures  fhow) 
Brought  her  own  fpoufe  and  all  his  race  to  woe ; 

How 


The   WIFE   of  BATH.  2S7 

How  Sampfon  fell ;   and  he  whom  Dejanire 

Wrap'd  in  th'  envenom'd  fhirt,  and  fet  on  fire. 

How  curs'd  Eryphile  her  Lord  betray 'd, 

And  the  dire  ambufh  Clytemneflra  lay'd. 

But  what  moft  pleas'd  him  was  the  Cretan  dame, 

And  husband-bull — oh  monftrous !  fie,  for  fliame ! 
He  had  by  heart  the  whole  detail  of  woe 

Xantippe  made  her  good  man  undergo; 

How  oft'  fhe  fcolded  in  a  day,  he  knew, 

How  many  pifs-pots  on  the  fage  ihe  threw ; 

Who  took  it  patiently,  and  wip'd  his  head ; 

Rain  follows  thunder,  that  was  all  he  faid. 

He  read,  how  Arius  to  his  friend  complain'd, 
A  fatal  Tree  was  growing  in  his  land, 
On  which  three  wives  fucceflively  had  twin'd 
A  Aiding  noofe,  and  waver'd  in  the  wind. 
Where  grows  this  plant  (reply  'd  the  friend)  oh  where  ? 
For  better  fruit  did  never  orchard  bear : 
Give  me  fome  flip  of  this  moft  blifsful  tree, 
And  in  my  garden  planted  fliall  it  be ! 

M  m  2  Then 


26S  The    WIFE    of  BATH. 

Then  how  two  wives  their  lord's  deftru&ion  prove, 
Thro'  hatred  one,  and  one  thro'  too  much  love ; 
That  for  her  husband  mix'd  a  pois'nous  draught ; 
And  this  for  lud  an  am'rous  philtre  bought, 
The  nimble  juice  foon  feiz'd  his  giddy  head, 
Frantic  at  night,  and  in  the  morning  dead. 

How  fome  with  fwords  their  fleeping  lords  have  flain, 
And  fome  have  hammer'd  nails  into  their  brain, 
And  fome  have  drench'd  them  with  a  deadly  potion  ; 
All  this  he  read,  and  read  with  great  devotion. 

Long  timelheard,and  fwell'd;and  blufh'd,and  frown'd, 
But  when  no  end  of  thefe  vile  tales  I  found, 
When  ftill  he  read,  and  laugh'd,  and  read  again, 
And  half  the  night  was  thus  confum'd  in  vain ; 
Provok'd  to  vengeance,  three  large  leaves  I  tore, 
And  with  one  buffet  fell'd  him  on  the  floor. 
With  that  my  husband  in  a  fury  rofe, 
And  down  he  fettled  me  with  hearty  blows : 
I  groan'd,  and  lay  extended  on  my  fide ; 
Oh !  thou  haft  flain  me  for  my  wealth  (I  cry'd) 

Yet 


The    WIFE   of  BATH.  269 

Yet  I  forgive  thee-— take  my  laft  embrace. 
He  wept,  kind  foul !  and  ftoop'd  to  kifs  my  face ; 
I  took  him  fuch  a  box  as  turn'd  him  blue, 
Then  figh'd  and  cry'd,  Adieu,  my  dear,  adieu  ! 

But  after  many  a  hearty  ftruggle  part, 
I  condefcended  to  be  pleas'd  at  laft. 
Soon  as  he  faid,  My  miftrefs  and  my  wife, 
Do  what  you  lift,  the  term  of  all  your  life : 
I  took  to  heart  the  merits  of  the  caufe, 
And  ftood  content  to  rule  by  wholfome  laws ; 
Receiv'd  the  reins  of  abfolute  command,  } 

With  all  the  government  of  houfe  and  land ;         > 
And  empire  o'er  his  tongue,  and  o'er  his  hand,     j 
As  for  the  volume  that  revil'd  the  dames, 
'Twas  torn  to  fragments,  and  condemn'd  to  flames. 

Now  heav'n  on  all  my  husbands  gone,  beftow 
Pleafures  above,  for  tortures  felt  below : 
That  reft  they  wifli'd  for,  grant  them  in  the  grave. 
And  blefs  thofe  fouls  my  conduct  help'd  to  fave ! 

SAPHO 


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A    P    H    O 


T   O 


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V    I    D. 


/ 


T    O 


P    H    A    O    N. 


AY,  lovely  youth,    that  doft  my 
heart  command, 
Can  Phaon's  eyes  forget  his  Saphtfs 
hand? 

Mufl:  then  her  name  the  wretched  writer  prove, 
To  thy  remembrance  loft,  as  to  thy  love? 
Ask  not  the  caufe  that  I  new  numbers  chufe, 
The  Lute  negleded,  and  the  Lyric  mufe ; 

N  n  Love 


■  ' 


27+  SAPHO    to    PHAON. 

Love  taught  my  tears  in  fadder  notes  to  flow, 
And  tun'd  my  heart  to  elegies  of  woe. 
I  burn,  I  burn,  as  when  thro'  ripen'd  corn 
By  driving  winds  the  fpreading  flames  are  born ! 
Phaon  to  Aetna's  (torching  fields  retires, 
While  I  confume  with  more  than  Aetna's  fires-! 
No  more  my  foul  a  charm  in  mufic  finds, 
Mufic  has  charms  alone  for  peaceful  minds: 
Soft  fcenes  of  folitude  no  more  can  pleafe, 
Love  enters  there,  and  I'm  my  own  difeafe : 
No  more  the  Lesbian  dames  my  paflion  move, 
Once  the  dear  obje6is  of  my  guilty  love ; 
All  other  loves  are  loft  in  only  thine, 
Ah  youth  ungrateful  to  a  flame  like  mine ! 
Whom  would  not  all  thofe  blooming  charms  furprifce, 
Thofe  heav'nly  looks,  and  dear,  deluding  eyes? 
The  harp  and  bow  would  you  like  Phoebus  bear, 
A  brighter  Phoebus,  Phaon  might  appear , 
Would  you  with  ivy  wreath  your  flowing  hair, 
Not  Bacchus'"  felf  with  Phaon  could  compare  : 

Yet 


SAPHO    to    PHAON.  275 

Yet  Phcehus  lov'd,  and  Bacchus  felt  the  flame, 

One  Daphne  warm'd,  and  one  the  Cretan  dame ; 

Nymphs  that  in  verfe  no  more  could  rival  me, 

Than  ev'n  thofe  Gods  contend  in  charms  with  thee. 

The  Mufes  teach  me  all  their  fofteft  lays, 

And  the  wide  world  refounds  with  Sapho's  praife. 

Tho'  great  Alcaeus  more  fublimely  fings, 

And  ftrikes  with  bolder  rage  the  founding  firings, 

No  lefs  renown  attends  the  moving  lyre, 

Which  Venus  tunes,  and  all  her  Loves  infpire. 

To  me  what  nature  has  in  charms  deny'd, 

Is  well  by  wit's  more  lafting  charms  fupply'd. 

Tho'  fhort  my  ftature,  yet  my  name  extends 

To  heav'n  itfelf,  and  earth's  remoteft  ends. 

Brown  as  I  am,  an  ALthiopian  dame 

Infpir'd  young  Perfeus  with  a  gen'rous  flame. 

Turtles  and  doves  of  differing  hues,  unite, 

And  gloffy  jett  is  pair'd  with  fliining  white. 

If  to  no  charms  thou  wilt  thy  heart  refign, 

But  fuch  as  merit,  fuch  as  equal  thine, 

N  n  2  By 


216  SAPHO    to    PHAOK 

By  none  alas!  by  none  thou  can'ft  be  mov'd, 
Thaon  alone  by  Thaon  muft  be  lov'd ! 
Yet  once  thy  Sapho  could  thy  cares  employ,. 
Once  in  her  arms  you  center 'd  all  your  joy  : 
Still  all  thofe  joys  to  my  remembrance  move, 
For  oh  !  how  raft  a  memory  has  Love  ? 
My  mufic,  then,  you  could  for  ever  hear, 
And  all  my  words  were  mufic  to  your  ear. 
You  ftop'd  with  kiffes  my  inchanting  tongue, 
And  found  my  kifles  fweeter  than  my  fong. 
In  all  I  pleas'd,  but  moft  in  what  was  beft ; 
And  the  laft  joy  was  dearer  than  the  reft. 
Then  with  each  word,  each  glance,  each  motion  fir'd, 
You  ftill  enjoy 'd,  and  yet  you  ftill  defir'd, 
Till  all  diffolving  in  the  trance  we  lay, 
And  in  tumultuous  raptures  dy'd  away. 
The  fair  Sicilians  now  thy  foul  inflame ; 
Why  was  I  born,  ye  Gods,  a  Lesbian  dame? 
But  ah  beware,  Sicilian  nymphs !  nor  boaft 
That  wandring  heart  which  I  fo  lately  loft ; 

Nor 


SAP  H  O    to    P  H  A  0  N.  277 

Nor  be  with  all  thofe  tempting  words  abus'd, 
Thofe  tempting  words  were  all  to  Sapbo  us'd. 
And  you  that  rule  Sicilians  happy  plains, 
Have  pity,  Venus ',  on  your  Poet's  pains ! 
Shall  fortune  ftill  in  one  fad  tenor  run, 
And  ftill  increafe  the  woes  fo  foon  begun? 
Enur'd  to  forrows  from  my  tender  years> 
My  parent's  afhes  drank  my  early  tears. 
My  brother  next,  negle&ing  wealth  and  famer 
Ignobly  burn'd  in  a  deftru&ive  flame. 
An  infant  daughter  late  my  griefs  increaft, 
And  all  a  mother's  cares  diftra6t  my  bread. 
Alas,  what  more  could  fate  itfelf  impofe, 
But  thee,  the  laft  and  greateft  of  my  woes  ? 
No  more  my  robes  in  waving  purple  flow, 
Nor  on  my  hand  the  fparkling  diamonds  glow,, 
No  more  my  locks  in  ringlets  curl'd  diflfufe 
The  coftly  fweetnefs  of  Arabian  dews, 
Nor  braids  of  gold  the  vary'd  trefles  bind, 
That  fly  diforder'd  with  the  wanton  wind : 

for 


278  SAPHO    to    PHAON. 

For  whom  lhould  Sapho  ufe  fuch  arts  as  thefe  ? 
He's  gone,  whom  only  Ihe  defir'd  to  pleafe ! 
Cupid's  light  darts  my  tender  bofom  move, 
Still  is  there  caufe  for  Sapho  ftill  to  love : 
So  from  my  birth  the  Sifters  fix'd  my  doom, 
And  gave  to  Venus  all  my  life  to  come; 
Or  while  my  Mufe  in  melting  notes  complains, 
My  beating  heart  keeps  meafure  to  my  ftrains. 
By  charms  like  thine  which  all  my  foul  have  won, 
Who  might  not — ah  !  who  would  not  be  undone  ? 
For  thofe  Aurora  Cephalus  might  fcorn, 
And  with  frefh  blufhes  paint  the  confcious  morn. 
For  thofe  might  Cynthia  lengthen  Phaon's  fleep, 
And  bid  Endymion  nightly  tend  his  fheep. 
Venus  for  thofe  had  rapt  thee  to  the  skies, 
But  Mars  on  thee  might  look  with  Venus'  eyes. 
O  fcarce  a  youth,  yet  fcarce  a  tender  boy ! 
O  ufeful  time  for  lovers  to  employ! 
Pride  of  thy  age,  and  glory  of  thy  race, 
Come  to  thefe  arms,  and  melt  in  this  embrace ! 

The 


S  A  P  H  O    to    P  HA  0  N.  27? 

The  vows  you  never  will  return,  receive ; 
And  take  at  leaft  the  love  you  will  not  give. 
See,  while  I  write,  my  words  are  loft  in  tears ; 
The  lefs  my  fenfe,  the  more  my  love  appears. 
Sure  'twas  not  much  to  bid  one  kind  adieu, 
(At  leaft  to  feign  was  never  hard  to  you.) 
Farewel,  my  Lesbian  love,  you  might  have  faid, 
Or  coldly  thus,  farewel,  oh  Lesbian  maid  ! 
No  tear  did  you,  no  parting  kifs  receive, 
Nor  knew  I  then  how  much  I  was  to  grieve. 
No  lover's  gift  your  Sapho  could  confer, 
And  wrongs  and  woes  were  all  you  left  with  her. 
No  charge  I  gave  you,  and  no  charge  could  give,. 
But  this ;    be  mindful  of  our  loves,  and  live. 
Now  by  the  Nine,  thofe  pow'rs  ador'd  by  me, 
And  Love,  the  God  that  ever  waits  on  thee, 
When  lirft  I  heard  (from  whom  I  hardly  knew) 
That  you  were  fled,  and  all  my  joys  with  you, 
Like  fome  fad  ftatue,  fpeechlefs,  pale,  I  ftood ; 
Grief  chill'd  my  breaft,  and  ftop'd  my  freezing  blood-; 

No- 


28o  SAPHO    to    PHA  OK 

No  figh  to  rife,  no  tear  had  pow'r  to  flow; 
Fix'd  in  a  ftupid  lethargy  of  woe. 
But  when  its  way  th'  impetuous  paflion  found, 
I  rend  my  trefles,  and  my  breaft  I  wound, 
I  rave,  then  weep,  I  curfe,  and  then  complain, 
Now  fwell  to  rage,  now  melt  in  tears  again. 
Not  fiercer  pangs  diftra6t  the  mournful  dame, 
Whofe  firft-born  infant  feeds  the  fun'ral  flame. 
My  fcornful  brother  with  a  fmile  appears, 
Infults  my  woes,  and  triumphs  in  my  tears, 
His  hated  image  ever  haunts  my  eyes, 
And  why  this  grief?  thy  daughter  lives,  he  cries. 
Stung  with  my  love,  and  furious  with  defpair, 
All  torn  my  garments,  and  my  bofom  bare, 
My  woes,  thy  crimes,  I  to  the  world  proclaim ; 
Such  inconfiftent  things  are  love  and  lhame ! 
'Tis  thou  art  all  my  care  and  my  delight, 
My  daily  longing,  and  my  dream  by  night : 
Oh  night  more  pleafing  than  the  brighteft.day, 
When  fancy  gives  what  abfence  takes  away, 

And 


SAP  HO    to    PHAON.  281 

And  drefs'd  in  all  its  vifionary  charms, 
Reftores  my  fair  deferter  to  my  arms! 
Then  round  your  neck  in  wanton  wreaths  I  twine, 
Then  you,  methinks,  as  fondly  circle  mine: 
A  thoufand  tender  words,  I  hear  and  fpeak ; 
A  thoufand  melting  kifTes,  give,  and  take : 
Then  fiercer  joys — I  blufh  to  mention  thefe, 
Yet  while  I  blufli,  confefs  how  much  they  pleafe ! 
But  when,  with  day,  the  fweet  delufions  fly, 
And  all  things  wake  to  life  and  joy,  but  I, 
As  if  once  more  forfaken,  I  complain, 
And  clofe  my  eyes,  to  dream  of  you  again. 
Then  frantic  rife,  and  like  fome  fury  rove 
Thro'  lonely  plains,  and  thro'  the  filent  grove, 
As  if  the  filent  grove,  and  lonely  plains 
That  knew  my  pleafures,  could  relieve  my  pains. 
I  view  the  Grotto,  once  the  fcene  of  love, 
The  rocks  around,  the  hanging  roofs  above, 
That  charm'd  me  more,  with  native  mofs  o'ergrown, 
Than  Phrygian  marble,  or  the  Parian  (tone. 

O  o  I  find 


282  SAPHO    to    PHAON. 

I  find  the  fliades  that  veil'd  our  joys  before, 
But,  Phaon  gone,  thofe  fliades  delight  no  more. 
Here  the  prefs'd  herbs  with  bending  tops  betray 
Were  oft'  entwm'd  in  am'rous  folds  we  lay  ; 
I  kifs  that  earth  which  once  was  prefs'd  by  you, 
And  all  with  tears  the  with'ring  herbs  bedew. 
For  thee  the  fading  trees  appear  to  mourn, 
And  birds  defer  their  fongs  till  thy  return : 
Night  fliades  the  groves,  and  all  in  filence  lie, 
All,  but  the  mournful  Philomel  and  I : 
With  mournful  Philomel  I  join  my  ftrain, 
Of  Tereus  flie,  of  Phaon  I  complain. 

A  fpring  there  is,  whofe  filver  waters  fhow 
Clear  as  a  glafs,  the  fhining  fands  below ; 
A  flow'ry  Lotos  fpreads  its  arms  above, 
Shades  all  the  banks,  and  feems  itfelf  a  grove ; 
Eternal  greens  the  mofly  margin  grace, 
Watch'd  by  the  fylvan  Genius  of  the  place. 
Here  as  I  lay,  and  fwelPd  with  tears  the  flood, 
Before  my  fight  a  watry  virgin  ftood, 


She 


SAPHO    to    PHAOK  283 

She  ftood  and  cry'd,  "  O  you  that  love  in  vain ! 
"  Fly  hence ;  and  feek  the  far  Leucadian  main ; 
"  There  ftands  a  rock  from  whofe  impending  fteep 
"  Apollo's  fane  furveys  the  rolling  deep; 
"  There  injur'd  lovers,  leaping  from  above, 
"  Their  flames  extinguifh,  and  forget  to  love. 
"  Deucalion  once  with  hopelefs  fury  burn'd, 
"  In  vain  he  lov'd,  relentlefs  Pjrrha  fcorn'd ; 
u  But  when  from  hence  he  plung'd  into  the  main, 
"  Deucalion  fcorn'd,  and  Pyrrha  lov'd  in  vain. 
"  Hafte  Sapho,  hafte,  from  high  Leucadia  throw 
"  Thy  wretched  weight,  nor  dread  the  deeps  below  ! 
She  fpoke,  and  vanifh'd  with  the  voice — I  rife, 
And  filent  tears  fall  trickling  from  my  eyes. 
I  go,  ye  nymphs !  thofe  rocks  and  feas  to  prove ; 
How  much  I  fear,  but  ah,  how  much  I  love ! 
I  go,  ye  nymphs !  where  furious  love  infpires ; 
Let  female  fears  fubmit  to  female  fires. 
To  rocks  and  feas  I  fly  from  Phaons  hate, 
And  hope  from  feas  and  rocks  a  milder  fate. 

O  o  2  Ye 


28+  SAPHO    to    PHJON. 

Ye  gentle  gales,  beneath  my  body  blow, 
And  foftly  lay  me  on  the  waves  below ! 
And  thou,  kind  Love,  my  finking  limbs  fuftain,   1 
Spread  thy  foft  wings,  and  waft  me  o'er  the  main,  y 
Nor  let  a  Lover's  death  the  guiltlefs  flood  profane  !  ) 
On  Phoebus'  fhrine  my  harp  I'll  then  bellow, 
And  this  infeription  fhall  be  plac'd  below. 
"  Here  fhe  who  fung,  to  him  that  did  infpire, 
"  Sapho  to  Phoebus  confecrates  her  Lyre ; 
"  What  fuits  with  Sapho,  Phoebus  fuits  with  thee ; 
a  The  gift,  the  giver,  and  the  God  agree. 
But  why,  alas,  relentlefs  youth,  ah  why 
To  diftant  feas  muft  tender  Sapho  fly  ? 
Thy  charms  than  thofe  may  far  more  pow'rful  be, 
And  Phoebus'  felf  is  lefs  a  God  to  me. 
Ah  !  can'ft  thou  doom  me  to  the  rocks  and  fea, 
O  far  more  faithlefs  and  more  hard  than  they  ? 
Ah !  can'ft  thou  rather  fee  this  tender  breaft 
Dalh'd  on  thofe  rocks,  than  to  thy  bofom  preft  ? 


This 


SAPHO    to    P  HA  0  N.  285 

This  breaft  which  once,  in  vain  !  you  lik'd  fo  well ; 
Where  the  Loves  play'd,and  where  the  Mufes  dwell. — 
Alas !  the  Mufes  now  no  more  infpire, 
Untun'd  my  lute,  and  filent  is  my  lyre, 
My  languid  numbers  have  forgot  to  flow, 
And  fancy  finks  beneath  a  weight  of  woe. 
Ye  Lesbian 'virgins,  and  ye  Lesbian  dames, 
Themes  of  my  verfe,  and  obje&s  of  my  flames, 
No  more  your  groves  with  my  glad  fongs  fhall  ring, 
No  more  thefe  hands  fliall  touch  the  trembling  firing : 
My  Phaon's  fled,  and  I  thofe  arts  refign, 
(Wretch  that  I  am,  to  call  that  Phaon  mine !) 
Return,  fair  youth,  return,  and  bring  along 
Joy  to  my  foul,  and  vigour  to  my  fbng : 
Abfent  from  thee,  the  Poet's  flame  expires, 
But  ah !  how  fiercely  burn  the  lover's  fires  ? 
Gods !   can  no  pray'rs,  no  fighs,  no  numbers  move 
One  favage  heart,  or  teach  it  how  to  love? 
The  winds  my  pray'rs,  my  fighs,  my  numbers  bear, 
The  flying  winds  have  loft  them  all  in  air ! 

Oh 


28£  S  A  P  HO    to    P  HA  ON. 

Oh  when,  alas !  fhall  more  aufpicious  gales 
To  thefe  fond  eyes  reftore  thy  welcome  fails  ? 
If  you  return — ah  why  thefe  long  delays  ? 
Poor  Sapho  dies,  while  carelefs  Phaon  ftays. 
O  launch  thy  bark,  nor  fear  the  watry  plain, 
Venus  for  thee  fhall  fmooth  her  native  main. 
O  launch  thy  bark,  fecure  of  profp'rous  gales, 
Cupid  for  thee  fhall  fpread  the  fwelling  fails. 
If  you  will  fly — (yet  ah !  what  caufe  can  be, 
Too  cruel  youth,  that  you  fhould  fly  from  me  ?) 
If  not  from  Phaon  I  muft  hope  for  eafe, 
Ah  let  me  feek  it  from  the  raging  feas : 
To  raging  feas  unpity'd  I'll  remove, 
And  either  ceafe  to  live,  or  ceafe  to  love ! 


VERTUMNfes 


m§mMwmmm$mmi$m^ 


f£$iH*if& 


.  ce/i 


VERTUMNUS 


AND 


POMONA: 


From  the  Fourteenth  Book  of 


0 FID's    METAMORPHOSES. 


HE  fair  Pomona  flourifh'd  in  his 
reign ; 
Of  all  the  virgins  of  the  fylvan 
train, 

None  taught  the  trees  a  nobler  race  to  bear, 
Or  more  improv'd  the  vegetable  care. 
To  her  the  Ihady  grove,  the  flow'ry  field, 
The  ftreams  and  fountains,  no  delights  could  yield ; 

'Twas 


s88        VERTUMNUS  and  POMONA 

'Twas  all  her  joy  the  ripening  fruits  to  tend, 
And  fee  the  boughs  with  happy  burthens  bend. 
The  hook  fhe  bore,  inftead  of  Cynthia's  fpear, 
To  lop  the  growth  of  the  luxuriant  year, 
To  decent  form  the  lawlefs  flioots  to  bring, 
And  teach  th'  obedient  branches  where  to  fpring, 
Now  the  cleft  rind  inferted  graffs  receives, 
And  yields  an  offspring  more  than  nature  gives ; 
Now  Aiding  ftreams  the  thirfty  plants  renew, 

And  feed  their  fibres  with  reviving  dew. 

Thefe  cares  alone  her  virgin  breaft  employ, 
Averfe  from  Venus  and  the  nuptial  joy  ; 
Her  private  orchards,  walPd  on  ev'ry  fide, 
To  lawlefs  fylvans  all  accefs  deny'd. 
How  oft'  the  fatyrs  and  the  wanton  fawns, 
Who  haunt  the  forefts,  or  frequent  the  lawns, 
The  God  whofe  enfign  fcares  the  birds  of  prey, 
And  old  Silenus,  youthful  in  decay, 
Employ'd  their  wiles  and  unavailing  care, 
To  pafs  the  fences,  and  furprize  the  f lir  ? 

Like 


VERTUMNUS  and  POMONA.        28? 

Like  thefe,  Vertumnus  own'd  his  faithful  flame, 
Like  thefe,  reje&ed  by  the  fcornful  dame. 
To  gain  her  fight,  a  thoufand  forms  he  wears, 
And  firft  a  reaper  from  the  field  appears, 
Sweating  he  walks,  while  loads  of  golden  grain 
O'ercharge  the  flioulders  of  the  feeming  fwain. 
Oft'  o'er  his  back  a  crooked  fcythe  is  laid, 
And  wreaths  of  hay  his  fun-burnt  temples  fhade ; 
Oft'  in  his  harden'd  hand  a  goad  he  bears, 
Like  one  who  late  unyok'd  the  fweating  fleers. 
Sometimes  his  pruning-hook  corrects  the  vines, 
And  the  loofe  ftraglers  to  their  ranks  confines. 
Now  gath'ring  what  the  bounteous  year  allows, 
He  pulls  ripe  apples  from  the  bending  boughs. 
A  foldier  now,  he  with  his  fword  appears ; 
A  filher  next,  his  trembling  angle  bears ; 
Each  fhape  he  varies,  and  each  art  he  tries, 
On  her  bright  charms  to  feaft  his  longing  eyes, 

A  female  form  at  laft  Vertumnus  wears, 
With  all  the  marks  of  rev'rend  age  appears, 
His  temples  thinly  fpread  with  filver  hairs : 

— 

P  p  Prop: 


s 


29o        VERTUMNUS  and  POMONA 

Prop'd  on  his  ftafF,  and  ftooping  as  he  goes, 
A  painted  mitre  fhades  his  furrow'd  brows. 
The  God,  in  this  decrepit  form  array'd,  ") 

The  gardens  enter'd,  and  the  fruits  furvey'd,       > 
And  "  happy  you  !  (he  thus  addrefs'd  the  maid)    ) 
"  Whofe  charms  as  far  all  other  nymphs  out-fhine, 
"  As  other  gardens  are  excell'd  by  thine ! 
Then  kifs'd  the  fair ;   (his  kiffes  warmer  grow 
Than  fuch  as  women  on  their  fex  beftow.) 
Then  plac'd  befide  her  on  the  flow'ry  ground,. 
Beheld  the  trees  with  autumn's  bounty  crownM 
An  Elm  was  near,  to  whole  embraces  led, 
The  curling  vine  her  fwelling  clufters  fpread ; 
He  view'd  their  twining  branches  with  delight, 
And  prais'd  the  beauty  of  the  pleafing  fight. 

Yet  this  tall  elm,  but  for  his  vine  (he  faid) 
Had  ftood  negledted,  and  a  barren  ihade ; 
And  this  fair  vine,  but  that  her  arms  furround 
•    Her  marry 'd  elm,  had  crept  along  the  ground. 
'Ah  beauteous  maid,  let  this  example  move 
Your  mind,  averfe  from  all  the  joys  of  love. 

Deign 


VERTUMNUS  and   POMONA        291 

Deign  to  be  lov'd,  and  ev'ry  heart  fubdue ! 
What  nymph  cou'd  e'er  attrait  fuch  crowds  as  you  ? 
Not  fhe  whofe  beauty  urg'd  the  Centaurs  arms, 
Ulyjfes*  Queen,  nor  Helen's  fatal  charms. 
Ev'n  now,  when  filent  fcorn  is  all  they  gain, 
A  thoufand  court  you,  tho'  they  court  in  vain, 
A  thoufand  fylvans,  demigods,  and  gods, 
That  haunt  our  mountains  and  our  Alhan  woods. 
But  if  you'll  profper,  mark  what  I  advife, 
Whom  age,  and  long  experience  render  wife, 
And  one  whofe  tender  care  is  far  above 
All  that  thefe  lovers  ever  felt  of  love, 
(Far  more  than  e'er  can  by  your  felf  be  gueft) 
Fix  on  Vertumnus^  and  reject  the  reft. 
For  his  firm  faith  I  dare  engage  my  own ; 
Scarce  to  himfelf,  himfelf  is  better  known. 
To  diftant  lands  Vertumnus  never  roves ; 
Like  you,  contented  with  his  native  groves ; 
Nor  at  firft  fight,  like  moft,  admires  the  fair ;      1 
For  you  he  lives;    and  you  alone  fliall  fliare        ^ 
His  laft  affe&ion,  as  his  early  care.  J 

P  p  2  Befides, 


2?2        VERTUMNUS  and  POMONA. 

Befides,  he's  lovely  far  above  the  reft, 
With  youth  immortal,  and  with  beauty  bleft. 
Add,  that  he  varies  ev'ry  fhape  with  eafe, 
And  tries  all  forms,  that  may  Pomona  pleafe. 
But  what  ihould  moft  excite  a  mutual  flame, 
Your  rural  cares,  and  pleafures,  are  the  fame. 
To  him  your  orchards  early  fruits  are  due, 
(A  pleafing  ofPring  when  'tis  made  by  you;) 
He  values  thefe ;   but  yet  (alas)  complains, 
That  ftill  the  beft  and  deareft  gift  remains : 
Not  the  fair  fruit  that  on  yon'  branches  glows 
With  that  ripe  red,  th'  autumnal  fun  beftows ; 
Nor  taftful  h^rbs  that  in  thefe  gardens  rife, 
Which  the  kind  foil  with  milky  fap  fupplies ; 
You,  only  you,  can  move  the  God's  defire : 
Oh  crown  fo  conftant  and  fo  pure  a  fire ! 
Let  foft  compaflion  touch  your  gentle  mind  ; 
Think,  'tis  Vertumnus  begs  you  to  be  kind ! 
So  may  no  froft,  when  early  buds  appear, 
Deftroy  the  promife  of  the  youthful  year ; 

Nor 


VERTUMNUS  and  POMONA.        293 

Nor  winds,  when  fir  ft  your  florid  orchard  blows, 
Shake  the  light  bloflbms  from  their  blafted  boughs! 

This  when  the  various  God  had  urg'd  in  vain. 
He  ftrait  affum'd  his  native  form  again ; 
Such,  and  fb  bright  an  afpeA  now  he  bears, 
As  when  thro'  clouds  th'  emerging  fun  appeal^ 
And  thence  exerting  his  refulgent  ray, 
Difpells  the  darknefs,  and  reveals  the  day. 
Force  he  prepar'd,  but  check 'd  the  rafh  defign  ; 
For  when,  appearing  in  a  form  divine, 
The  nymph  furveys  him,  and  beholds  the  grace 
Of  charming  features,  and  a  youthful  face, 
In  her  foft  breaft  confenting  paflions  move, 
And  the  warm  maid  confefs'd  a  mutual  lave. 


- 


THE 


THE 


FABLE  of  DRTOPE. 

From  the  Ninth  Book  of 

OVIDs   METAMORPHOSES. 


Upon  occafion  of  the  death  of  Hercules,  his  mother  Alcmena  re- 
counts her  misfortunes  to  Iole,  who  anfwers  with  a  relation  of 
thofe  of  her  own  family,    in  particular  the  transformation  of 
her  fifler  Dryope,  which  is  the  fubjetl  of  the  enfuing  Fable. 

H  E  faid ,    and  for  her  loft  Galctn- 
this  fighs, 
When  the  fair  Confort  of  her  fon 
replies. 

Since  you  a  fervant's  ravifli'd  form  bemoan, 
And  kindly  figh  for  forrows  not  your  own ; 
Let  me  (if  tears  and  grief  permit)  relate 
A  nearer  woe,  a  filter's  ftranger  fate. 

No 


The.    FABLE    of   DRYOPE.  295 

No  nymph  of  all  Oechalia  could  compare 
For  beauteous  form  with  Dryope  the  fair, 
Her  tender  mother's  only  hope  and  pride, 
(My  felf the  .offspring  of  a  fecond  bride.) 
This  nymph  comprefs'd  by  him  who  rules  the  day, 
Whom  Delphi  and  the  Delian  ifle  obey, 
Andrcemon  lov'd :  and  blefs'd  in  all  thofe  charms 
That  pleas'd  a  God,  fucceeded  to  her  arms. 

A  Lake  there  was,  with  fhelving  banks  around, 
Whofe  verdant  fummit  fragrant  myrtles  crown'd 
Thofe  fliades,  unknowing  of  the  fates,  fhe  fought, 
And  to  the  Naiads  flow'ry  garlands  brought, 
Her  fmiling  babe  (a  pleafing  charge)  fhe  preft 
Within  her  arms,  and  nourifh'd  at  her  breaffc. 
Not  diftant  far  a  watry  Lotos  grows ; 
The  fpring  was  new,  and  all  the  verdant  boughs 
Adorn'd  with  bloffoms,  promis'd  fruits  that  vie 
In  glowing  colours  with  the  Tyrian  dye. 
Of  thefe  fhe  crop'd,  to  pleafe  her  infant  fbn  • 
And  I  my  felf  the  fame  rafh  acSt  had  done. 

But: 


296  The    FABLE    of  DRYOPE. 

But  lo !  I  faw,  (as  near  her  fide  I  flood) 
The  violated  blofToms  drop  with  blood ; 
Upon  the  tree  I  call  a  frightful  look ; 
The  trembling  tree  with  fudden  horror  ihook. 
Lotis  the  nymph  (if  rural  tales  be  true) 
As  from  Priapus'  lawlefs  luft  fhe  flew, 
Forfook  her  form ;  and  fixing  here,  became 
A  flow'ry  plant,  which  ftill  prefer ves  her  name. 
This  change  unknown,  aflonifh'd  at  the  fight 
My  trembling  filler  ftrove  to  urge  her  flight, 
Yet  firft  the  pardon  of  the  nymphs  implor'd, 
And  thofe  offended  fylvan  pow'rs  ador'd : 
But  when  fhe  backward  wou'd  have  fled,  fhe  found 
Her  ftifFning  feet  were  rooted  in  the  ground : 
In  vain  to  free  her  faften'd  feet  fhe  ftrove, 
And  as  fhe  ftruggles,  only  moves  above ; 
She  feels  th'  encroaching  bark  around  her  grow 
By  flow  degrees,  and  covers  all  below  : 
Surpriz'd  at  this,  her  trembling  hand  fhe  heaves 
To  rend  her  hair ;  her  hand  is  filPd  with  leaves ; 

Where 


The    FABLE    of  DRYOPE.  z91 

Where  late  was  hair,  the  ftiooting  leaves  are  feen 

To  rife,  and  fliade  her  with  a  fudden  green. 

The  child  Arnphifus,  to  her  bofom  preft, 

Perceiv'd  a  colder  and  a  harder  breaft, 

And  found  the  fprings  that  ne'er  till  then  deny'd 

Their  milky  moifture,  on  a  fudden  dry'd. 

I  faw,  unhappy !  what  I  now  relate, 

And  ftood  the  helplefs  witnefs  of  thy  fate ; 

Embrac'd  thy  boughs,  the  rifing  bark  delay'd, 

There  wifh'd  to  grow,  and  mingle  fliade  with  fhade. 

Behold,  Andramon  and  th'  unhappy  Sire 
Appear,  and  for  their  Dryope  enquire ; 
A  fpringing  tree  for  Dryope  they  find, 
And  print  warm  kiffes  on  the  panting  rind, 
Proftrate,  with  tears  their  kindred  plant  bedew, 
And  clofe  embrac'd,  as  to  the  roots  they  grew. 
The  face  was  all  that  now  remain'd  of  thee ; 
No  more  a  woman,  nor  yet  quite  a  tree : 
Thy  branches  hung  with  humid  pearls  appear, 
From  ev'ry  leaf  diftills  a  trickling  tear, 

Q  q  And 


c?8  The   FABLE    of  DRYOPE. 

And  ftrait  a  voice,  while  yet  a  voice  remains, 
Thus  thro'  the  trembling  boughs  in  fighs  complains. 

If  to  the  wretched  any  faith  be  giv'n, 
I  fwear  by  all  th'unpitying  pow'rs  of  heav'n, 
No  wilful  crime  this  heavy  vengeance  bred, 
In  mutual  innocence  our  lives  we  led : 
If  this  be  falfe,  let  thefe  new  greens  decay,  1 

Let  founding  axes  lop  my  limbs  away,  ^ 

And  crackling  flames  on  all  my  honours  prey.       } 
Now  from  my  branching  arms  this  infant  bear, 
Let  fome  kind  nurfe  fupply  a  mother's  care: 
Yet  to  his  mother  let  him  oft'  be  led, 
Sport  in  her  ihades,.  and  in  her  lhades  be  fed ; 
Teach  him,  when  firft  his  infant  voice  lhall  frame 
Imperfed:  words,  and  lifp  his  mother's  name, 
To  hail  this  tree ;  and  fay,  with  weeping  eyes, 
Within  this  plant  my  haplefs  parent  lies : 
And  when  in  youth  he  feeks  the  fhady  woods, 
Oh,  let  him  fly  the  cryftal  lakes  and  floods, 
Nor  touch  the  fatal  flow'rs ;   but,  warn'd  by  me„ 
Bdieve  a  Goddefs  Ihrin'd  in  ev'ry  tree. 

My 


The    FABLE    of  DRYOPR  o99 

My  fire,  my  fifter,  and  my  fpoufe  farewell ! 
If  in  your  breafts  or  love  or  pity  dwell, 
Proted:  your  plant,  nor  let  my  branches  feel 
The  browning  cattel,  or  the  piercing  fteel. 
Farewell !  and  fince  I  cannot  bend  to  join 
My  lips  to  yours,  advance  at  leaffc  to  mine. 
My  fon,  thy  mother's  parting  kifs  receive, 
While  yet  thy  mother  has  a  kifs  to  give. 
I  can  no  more  ;   the  creeping  rind  invades 
My  clofing  lips,  and  hides  my  head  in  lhades : 
Remove  your  hands,  the  bark  fhall  foon  fuffice 
Without  their  aid,  to  feal  thefe  dying  eyes. 

She  ceas'd  at  once  to  fpeak,  and  ceas'd  to  be ; 
A4id  all  the  nymph  was  loft  within  the  tree : 
Yet  latent  life  thro'  her  new  branches  reign'd, 
And  long  the  plant  a  human  heat  retain'd. 


Qq  2  THE 


■ 


THE 


FIRST     BOOK 


O  F 


S  T  A  T  I  U  S 


H  I  S 


T  H  E  B  A  I  S 


Tranflated  in  the  Year  1703- 


The   ARGUMENT. 

OEdipus  King  f  Thebes  having  by  miflake  flain  his 
father  Laius ,  and  marred  his  mother  Jocafta ,  put 
out  his  own  eyes,  and  refigtfd  the  realm  to  -his  fonsy 
Etheocles  and  Polynices.  Being  neglected  by  them,  he  makes 
his  prayer  to  the  fury  Tifiphone,  to  fow  debate  betwixt  the 
brothers.  They  agree  at  lafl  to  reign  fingly,  each  a  year  by 
turns,  and  the  firfi  lot  is  obtained  by  Etheocles.  Jupiter, 
in  a  council  of  the  Gods ,  declares  his  refolution  of  punijh" 
ing  the  Thebans,  and  Argives  alfo,  by  means  of  a  marri- 
age betwixt  Polynices  and  one  of  the  daughters  of  Adraftus 
King  of  Ay gos.  Juno  oppofes,  but  to  no  effect  -,  and  Mercury 
is  fent  on  a  mejfage  to  the  /hades,  to  the  ghofl  of  Laius,  who 
is  to  appear  to  Etheocles,  and  provoke  him  to  break  the  agree- 
ment. Polynices  in  the  mean  time  departs  from  Thebes  by 
night,  is  overtaken  by  a  form,  and  arrives  at  Argos  -,  where 
he  meets  with  Tydeus,  who  had  fled  from  Calydon,  having 
killed  hi*  brother.  Adraflus  entertains  them,  having  recerJd  an 
oracle  from  Apollo  that  his  daughters  jhould  be  marry%d  to  a 
Boar  and  a  Lion,  which  he  under flands  to  be  meant  of  thefe 
f  rangers  by  whom  the  hides  of  thofe  beafls  were  worn,  and  who 
arrived  at  the  time  wben  he  kept  an  annual  feaft  in  honour  of 
that  God.  The  rife  of  this  folemnity  he  relates  to  his  guefis, 
the  loves  of  Phoebus  tfWPfamathe,  and  the  fiory  of  Choxxhm. 
He  enquires,  and  is  made  acquainted  with,  their  defcent  and 
quality :  The  facrifice  is  renewed,  and  the  book,  concludes  with 
a  Hymn  to  Apollo. 


THE 


THE 


FIRST      BOOK 


O    F 


STATIUS    his    T  H  E  B  A  I  S. 


Raternal  rage,    the  guilty  Thehes 
alarms, 
Th'  alternate  reign   deftroy'd  by 
impious  arms, 
Demand  our  fong ;   a  facred  fury  fires 
My  ravifh'd  breaft,  and  all  the  Mufe  infpire& 
O  Goddefe,  fay,  lhall  I  deduce  my  rhimes 

From  the  dire  nation  in  its  early  times, 

Europcfs 


3o4  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Europcfs  rape,  Agenor\  ftern  decree, 
And  Cadmus  fearching  round  the  fpacious  fea  ? 
How  with  the  ferpent's  teeth  he  fow'd  the  foil, 
And  reap'd  an  Iron  harveft  of  his  toil ; 
Or  how  from  joining  ftones  the  city  fprung, 
While  to  his  harp  divine  Amphion  fung  ? 
Or  fhall  I  Juno's  hate  to  Thebes  refound, 
Whofe  fatal  rage  th'  unhappy  Monarch  found ; 
The  fire  againft  the  fon  his  arrows  drew, 
O'er  the  wide  fields  the  furious  mother  flew, 
And  while  her  arms  her  fecond  hope  contain, 
Sprung  from  the  rocks,  and  plung'd  into  the  main. 

But  wave  whate'er  to  Cadmus  may  belong, 
And  fix,  O  Mufe !  the  barrier  of  thy  fong, 
At  Oedipus- — from  his  difafters  trace 
The  long  confufions  of  his  guilty  race. 
Nor  yet  attempt  to  ftretch  thy  bolder  wing, 
And  mighty  Ctffafs  conqu'ring  eagles  fing ; 
How  twice  he  tam'd  proud  IJlefs  rapid  flood, 
WhikDacian  mountainsftream'd  with  barb'rous  blood ; 

Twice 


STAT  I  US    his    THEBAIS.  305 

Twice  taught  the  Rhine  beneath  his  laws  to  roll, 
And  ftretch'd  his  empire  to  the  frozen  pole ; 
Or  long  before,  with  early  valour  ftrove, 
In  youthful  arms  t'aflert  the  caufe  of  Jove. 
And  thou,  great  heir  of  all  thy  father's  fame, 
Encreafe  of  glory  to  the  Latian  name  ; 
Oh  blefs  thy  Rome  with  an  eternal  reign, 
Nor  let  defiring  worlds  intreat  in  vain ! 
What  tho'  the  ftars  contrail  their  heav'nly  fpace, 
And  crowd  their  fhining  ranks  to  yield  thee  place : 
Tho'  all  the  skies,  ambitious  of  thy  fway, 
Confpire  to  court  thee  from  our  world  away ; 
Tho'  Phoebus  longs  to  mix  his  rays  with  thine, 
And  in  thy  glories  more  ferenely  fhine ; 
Tho'  Jove  himfelf  no  lefs  content  would  be, 
To  part  his  throne  and  fhare  his  heav'n  with  thee ; 
Yet  flay,  great  Cafar !  and  vouchfafe  to  reign 
O'er  the  wide  earth,  and  o'er  the  watry  main, 
Refign  to  Jove  his  empire  of  the  ski,es, 
And  people  heav'n  with  Roman  Dcitks. 

R  r  The 


3o<5  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

The  time  will  come  when  a  diviner  flame 
Shall  warm  my  bread  to  fing  of  Cafar's  fame : 
Meanwhile  permit,  that  my  preluding  Mufe. 
In  Theban  wars  an  humbler  theme  may  chufe : 
Of  furious  hate  furviving  death,  fhe  fings, 
A  fatal  throne  to  two  contending  Kings, 
And  fun'ral  flames,  that  parting  wide  in  air, 

Exprefs  the  difcord  of  the  fouls  they  bear : 

Of  towns  difpeopled,  and  the  wand'ring  ghofts 

Of  Kings  unbury'd  on  the  wafted  coafts ; 

When  Dirce's  fountain  blufli'd  with  Grecian  blood> 

And  Thetis,  near  Tfmenas'  fwelling  flood, 

With  dread  beheld  the  rolling  furges  fweep 

In  heaps,  his  flaughter'd  fons  into  the  deep. 

What  hero,  Clio !  wilt  thou  firft  relate  ? 
The  raging  Tydeus,  or  the  Prophet's  fate  ? 
Or  how  with  hills  of  flain  on  ev'ry  fide, 
Hippomedon  repelPd  the  hoftile  tyde? 
Or  how  the  *  youth  with  ev'ry  grace  adorn 'd, 
Untimely  fell,  to  be  for  ever  motirn'd  ? 

Then 

*  Parthenopseus.  < 


STATIUS   his   THEBAIS*  307 

Then  to  fierce  Capaneus  thy  verfe  extend. 
And  fing,  with  horror,  his  prodigious  end. 

Now  wretched  Oedipus *,  depriv'd  of  fight, 
Led  a  long  death  in  everlafting  night ; 
But  while  he  dwells  where  not  a  chearful  ray 
Can  pierce  the  darknefs,  and  abhors  the  day ; 
The  clear,  reflecting  mind,  prefents  his  fin 
In  frightful  views,  and  makes  it  day  within ; 
Returning  thoughts  in  endlefs  circles  roll, 
And  thoufand  furies  haunt  his  guilty  foul. 
The  wretch  then  lifted  to  th'  unpitying  skies 
Thofe  empty  orbs,  from  whence  he  tore  his  eyes, 
Whofe  wounds  yet  frefli,  with  bloody  hands  he  ftrook? 
While  from  his  breaft  thefe  dreadful  accents  broke. 

Ye  Gods  that  o'er  the  gloomy  regions  reign 
Where  guilty  fpirits  feel  eternal  pain  ; 
Thou,  fable  Styx!  whofe  livid  ftreams  are  roll'd 
Thro'  dreary  coafts  which  I,  tho'  blind,  behold ": 
Tijiphone,  that  oft'  haft  heard  my  pray'r, 
Aflift,  if  Oedipus  deferve  thy  care ! 

R  r  2  If 


5o8  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

If  you  receiv'd  me  from  Jocajia's  womb, 
And  nurs'd  the  hope  of  mifchiefs  yet  to  come : 
If  leaving  Volybus,  I  took  my  way 
To  Cyrrba's  temple  on  that  fatal  day, 
When  by  the  fon  the  trembling  father  dy'd, 
Where  the  three  raids  the  Phocian  fields  divide  : 
If  I  the  Sphynxe's  riddles  durft  explain, 
Taught  by  thy  felf  to  win  the  promis'd  reign : 
If  wretched  I,  by  baleful  furies  led, 
With  monftrous  mixture  ftain'd  my  mother's  bed, 
For  hell  and  thee  begot  an  impious  brood, 
And  with  full  luft  thofe  horrid  joys  renew'd : 
Then  felf-condemn'd  to  fhades  of  endlefs  night, 
Forc'd  from  thefe  orbs  the  bleeding  balls  of  fight. 
Oh  hear,  and  aid  the  vengeance  I  require, 
If  worthy  thee,  and  what  thou  might 'ft  infpire ! 
My  fons  their  old,  unhappy  fire  defpife, 
Spoil'd  of  his  kingdom,  and  depriv'd  of  eyes  ; 
Guidelefs  I  wander,  unregarded  mourn, 
While  thefe  exalt  their  fcepters  o'er  my  urn;, 

3  Thefe 


I 


STATIUS    his    THEBAIS.  3o9 

Thefe  fons,  ye  Gods !  who  with  flagitious  pride, 
Infult  my  darknefs,  and  my  groans  deride. 
Art  thou  a  father,  unregarding  Jove! 
And  fleeps  thy  thunder  in  the  realms  above  ? 
Thou  Fury,  then,  fome  lading  curfe  entail, 
Which  o'er  their  childrens  children  ftiall  prevail : 
Place  on  their  heads  that  crown  diftain'd  with  gore, 
Which  thefe  dire  hands  from  my  flain  father  tore; 
Go,  and  a  parent's  heavy  curfes  bear; 
Break  all  the  bonds  of  nature,  and  prepare 
Their  kindred  fouls  to  mutual  hate  and  war.  j 

Give  them  to  dare,  what  I  might  wifh  to  fee, 
Blind  as  I  am,  fome  glorious  villany ! 
Soon  lhalt  thou  find,  if  thou  but  arm  their  hands, 
Their  ready  guilt  preventing  thy  commands  : 
Could'ft  thou  fome  great,  proportion'd  mifchief  frame, 
They'd  prove  the  father  from  whofe  loins  they  came. 

The  fury  heard,  while  on  Cocytus'  brink 
Her  fnakes,  unty'd,  fulphureous  waters  drink ; 


But 


3io  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

But  at  the  fummons,  rolPd  her  eyes  around, 
And  (hatch'd  the  ftarting  ferpents  from  the  ground. 
Not  half  fo  fwiftly  fhoots  along  in  air 
The  gliding  light'ning,  or  defending  ftar. 
Thro'  crouds  of  airy  fhades  £he  wing'd  her  flight, 
Arid  dark  dominions  of  the  filent  night ; 
Swift  as  fhe  pafs'd,  the  flitting  ghofts  withdrew. 
And  the  pale  fpe&res  trembled  at  her  view : 
To  th'iron  gates  of  Tenarus  fhe  flies, 
There  fpreads  her  dusky  pinions  to  the  skies. 
The  day  beheld,  and  fickning  at  the  fight, 
Veil'd  her  fair  glories  in  the  lhades  of  night. 
Affrighted  Atlas,  on  the  diftant  fhore, 
Trembl?d,  and  fhook  the  heav'ns  and  gods  he  bore, 
Now  from  beneath  Malea's  airy  height 
Aloft  fhe  fprung,  and  fteer'd  to  Thebes  her  flight ; 
Wkh  eager  fpeed  the  well-known  journey  took, 
Nor  here  regrets  the  hell  fhe  kte  forfook. 
A  hundred  fnakes  her  gloomy  vif^ge  fhade, 
A  hundred  ferpents  guard  her  horrid  head, 

In 


STATIUS    his    THEBJIS.  3u 

In  her  funk  eye-balls  dreadful  meteors  glow, 

Such  rays  from  Vhoebeh  bloody  circle  flow, 

When  lab'ring  withftrong  charms;fhe  fhoots  from  high 

A  fiery  gleam,  and  reddens  all  the  sky. 

Blood  ftain'd  her  cheeks,and  from  her  mouth therecame 

Blue  fteaming  poifons,  and  a  length  of  flame  ; 

From  ev'ry  blaft  of  her  contagious  breath, 

Famine  and  drought  proceed,  and  plagues,  and  death : 

A  robe  obfcene  was  o'er  her  ihoulders  thrown, 

A  drefs  by  fates  and  furies  worn  alone : 

She  tofs'd  her  meagre  arms;   her  better  hand 

In  waving  circles  whirPd  a  fun'ral  brand  ; 

A  ferpent  from  her  left,  was  feen  to  rear 

His  flaming  creft,  and  lafli  the  yielding  air. 

But  when  the  fury  took  her  ftand  on  high, 
Where  vaft  Cytharorfs  top  falutes  the  sky, 
A  hifs  from  all  the  fnaky  tire  went  round ;  ") 

The  dreadful  fignal  all  the  rocks  rebound,  £ 

And  thro5  t\\Achaian  cities  fend  the  found.  j 


Oete, 


3I2  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Oete,  with  high  Parnajfus,  heard  the  voice; 
Eurota's  banks  remurmur'd  to  the  noife ; 
Again  Leucothoe  fhook  at  thefe  alarms, 
And  prefs'd  Valamon  clofer  in  her  arms. 
Headlong  from  thence  the  glowing  fury  fprings, 
And  o'er  the  Theban  palace  fpreads  her  wings, 
Once  more  invades  the  guilty  dome,  and  ihrouds 
Its  bright  pavilions  in  a  veil  of  clouds. 
Strait  with  the  #  rage  of  all  their  race  pofTeft,       } 
Stung  to  the  foul,  the  brothers  ftart  from  reft,        > 
And  all  the  furies  wake  within  their  breaft.  ) 

Their  tortur'd  minds  repining  envy  tears, 
And  hate,  engendered  by  fufpicious  fears  • 
And  facred  thirft  of  fway  ;   and  all  the  ties 
Of  nature  broke ;   and  royal  perjuries ; 
And  impotent  defire  to  reign  alone, 
That  fcorns  the  dull  reverfion  of  a  throne ; 
Each  would  the  fvveets  of  fov'rcigii  rule  devour 
While  difcord  waits  upon  divided  pow'r. 

^    *  Gentilifque  animos  fubit  furor,  feems  tc  me  a  better  reading  than  Gentikfque. 

As 


STAT  I  US   his   THEBAIS  3i3 

As  ftubborn  fleers  by  brawny  plowmen  broke, 

And  join'd  relu&ant  to  the  galling  yoke, 

Alike  difdain  with  fervile  necks  to  bear 

Th' unwonted  weight,  or  drag  the  crooked  fliare, 

But  rend  the  reins,  and  bound  a  different  way, 

And  all  the  furrows  in  confufion  lay : 

Such  was  the  difcord  of  the  royal  pair, 

Whom  fury  drove  precipitate  to  war. 

In  vain  the  chiefs  contriv'd  a  fpecious  way, 

To  govern  Thebes  by  their  alternate  fway; 

Unjuft  decree !  while  this  enjoys  the  ftate, 

That  mourns  in  exile  his  unequal  fate ; 

And  the  fhort  monarch  of  a  hafty  year 

Forefees  with  anguilh  his  returning  heir. 

Thus  did  this  league  their  impious  arms  reftrain, 

But  fcarce  fublifted  to  the  fecond  reign. 

Yet  then  no  proud  afpiring  piles  were  rais'd, 
Whofe  fretted  roofs  with  polifh'd  metals  blaz'd, 
No  labour'd  columns  in  long  order  plac'd, 
No  Grecian  ftone  the  pompous  arches  grac'd ; 

S  f  Nor 


3i+  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Nor  nightly  bands  in  glitt'ring  armour  wait 
Before  the  fleeplefs  Tyrant's  guarded  gate : 
No  chargers  then  were  wrought  in  burnifh'd  Gold, 
Nor  filver  vafes  took  the  forming  mold, 
Nor  gems  on  bowls  embofs'd  were  feen  to  fhine, 
Blaze  on  the  brims,  and  fparkle  in  the  wine — 
Say,  wretched  rivals !  what  provokes  your  rage  * 
Say  to  what  end  your  impious  arms  engage? 
Not  all  bright  Vhoehus  views  in  early  morn, 
Or  when  his  evening  beams  the  weft  adorn, 
When  the  fouth  glows  with  his  meridian  ray, 
And  the  cold  north  receives  a  fainter  day ; 
For  crimes  like  thefe,  not  all  thofe  realms  fuffice,, 
Were  all  thofe  realms  the  guilty  vi&or's  prize ! 

But  fortune  now  (the  lots  of  empire  thrown) 
Decrees  to  proud  Etheocles  the  crown : 
What  joys,  oh  Tyrant !  fwell'd  thy  foul  that  day, 
When  all  were  flaves  thou  coukTft  around  furvey,, 
Pleas'd  to  behold  unbounded  pow'r  thy  own, 
And  fingly  fill  a  fear'd  and  envy'd  throne ! 

But 


STJTJUS   his   THEBAIS.  315 

But  the  vile  vulgar,  ever  difcontent, 
Their  growing  fears  in  fecret  murmurs  vent ; 
Still  prone  to  change,  tho'  ftill  the  Haves  of  ftate, 
And  fure  the  monarch  whom  they  have,  to  hate ; 
Madly  they  make  new  Lords,  then  tamely  bear, 
And  foftly  curfe  the  Tyrants  whom  they  fear. 
And  one  of  thofe  who  groan  beneath  the  fway 
Of  Kings  impos'd,   and  grudgingly  obey ; 
(Whom  envy  to  the  great,  and  vulgar  fpight 
With  fcandal  arm'd,  th'  ignoble  mind's  delight,) 
Exclaim'd — O  Thebes !  for  thee  what  fates  remain, 
What  woes  attend  this  inaufpicious  reign  ? 
Muft  we,  alas !  our  doubtful  necks  prepare, 
Each  haughty  mailer's  yoke  by  turns  to  bear, 
And  ftill  to  change  whom  chang'd  we  ftill  muft  fear?) 
Thefe  now  controul  a  wretched  people's  fate, 
Thefe  can  divide,  and  thefe  reverfe  the  ftate ; 
Ev'n  fortune  rules  no  more: — O  fervile  land. 
Where  exil'd  tyrants  ftill  by  turns  command ! 


Sf  2 


1 


V6  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Thou  Sire  of  Gods  and  men,  imperial  Jove  ! 
Is  this  th'  eternal  doom  decreed  above  ? 
On  thy  own  offspring  haft  thou  fix'd  this  fate, 
From  the  firft  birth  of  our  unhappy  ftate; 
When  banifh'd  Cadmus  wand'ring  o'er  the  main, 
For  loft  Europa  fearch'd  the  world  in  vain, 
And  fated  in  Boeotian  fields  to  found 
A  rifing  empire  on  a  foreign  ground, 
Firft  rais'd  our  walls  on  that  ill-omen'd  plain, 
Where  earth-born  brothers  were  by  brothers  flain  ? 
What  lofty  looks  th'unrivaPd  monarch  bears! 
How  all  the  tyrant  in  his  face  appears ! 
What  fullen  fury  clouds  his  fcornful  brow ! 
Gods !  how  his  eyes  with  threatning  ardour  glow ! 
Can  this  imperious  Lord  forget  to  reign, 
Quit  all  his  ftate,  defcend,  and  ferve  again  ?■ 
Yet  who,  before,  more  popularly  bow'd, 
Who  more  propitious  to  the  fuppliant  crowd, 
Patient  of  right,  familiar  in  the  throne  ? 
What  wonder  then  ?  he  was  not  then  alone. 

5  Oh 


STATIUS    his    THEBAIS.  317 

Oh  wretched  we,  a  vile,  fubmiflive  train, 
Fortune's  tame  fools,  and  flaves  in  ev'ry  reign  ! 

As  when  two  winds  with  rival  force  contend, 
This  way  and  that,  the  wav'ring  fails  they  bend, 
While  freezing  Boreas  and  black  Eurus  blow, 
Now  here,  now  there,  the  reeling  veflel  throw : 
Thus  on  each  fide,  alas !  our  tottVing  ftate 
Feels  all  the  fury  of  refiftlefs  fate, 
And  doubtful  ftill,  and  ftill  diftra&ed  ftands, 
While  that  Prince  threatens,  and  while  this  commands. 

And  now  th'  almighty  Father  of  the  Gods 
Convenes?  a  council  in  the  blefs'd  abodes : 
Far  in  the  bright  receffes  of  the  skies, 
High  o'er  the  rowling  heav'ns,  a  manfion  lies, 
Whence,  far  below,  the  Gods  at  once  furvey 
The  realms  of  riling  and  declining  day, 
And  all  th' extended  fpace  of  earth,  and  air,  and  fea*.  ) 
Full  in  the  midft,  and  on  a  ftarry  throne,. 
The  Majefty  of  heav'n  fuperior  Ihone ; 

Serene 


3i8  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Serene  he  look'd,  and  gave  an  awful  *  nod, 
And  all  the  trembling  fpheres  confefs'd  the  God. 
At  Jove's  affent,   the  deities  around 
In  folemn  ftate  the  confiftory  crown 'd : 
Next,  a  long  order  of  inferior  pow'rs 
Afcend  from  hills,  and  plains,  and  fhady  bow'rs ; 
Thofe  from  whofe  urns  the  rowling  rivers  flow, 
And  thofe  that  give  the  wandring  winds  to  blow ; 
Here  all  their  rage,  and  ev'n  their  murmurs  ceafe, 
And  facred  filence  reigns,  and  univerfal  peace. 
A  fiiining  fynod  of  majeftic  Gods 
Gilds  with  new  luftre  the  divine  abodes, 
Heav'n  feems  improv'd  with  a  fuperior  ray, 
And  the  bright  arch  reflects  a  double  day. 
The  monarch  then  his  folemn  filence  broke, 
The  ftill  creation  liften'd  while  he  fpoke, 
Each  facred  accent  bears  eternal  weight, 
And  each  irrevocable  word  is  fate. 


*  Placido  quatiens  tamen  omniaVultu,  is  the  common  reading  j   /  "believe  it  Jhould  b« 
Nutu,  with  reference  to  the  word  quatiens. 


How 


STATIUS    his    THEBAIS.  319 

How  long  fhall  Man  the  wrath  of  heav'n  defy, 
And  force  unwilling  vengeance  from  the  sky! 
Oh  race  confed'rate  into  crimes,  that  prove 
Triumphant  o'er  th'  eluded  rage  of  Jove  I 
This  weary'd  arm  can  fcarce  the  bolt  fuftain, 
And  unregarded  thunder  rolls  in  vain  : 
Th'  o'erlabour'd  Cyclop  from  his  task  retires ; 
Tl-iALolian  forge  exhaufted  of  its  fires. 
For  this,  I  fuffer'd  Phoebus'  fteeds  to  ftray, 
And  the  mad  ruler  to  mifguide  the  day, 
When  the  wide  earth  to  heaps  of  alhes  turn'd, 
And  heav'n  itfelf  the  wand'ring  chariot  burn'd. 
For  this,  my  brother  of  the  watry  reign 
Releas'd  th' impetuous  flukes  of  the  main, 
But  flames  confum'd,  and  billows  rag'd  in  vain>      y 
Two  races  now,  ally'd  to  Jove,  offend ; 
To  punifh  thefe,  fee  Jove  himfelf  defcend ! 
The  Thehan  Kings  their  line  from  Cadmus  trace,, 
From  godlike  Verjeus  thofb  of  Argive  race. 

Unhappy 


I 


32o  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Unhappy  Cadmus'  fate  who  does  not  know  ? 

And  the  long  feries  of  fucceeding  woe  : 

How  oft'  the  furies,  from  the  deeps  of  night, 

Arofe,  and  mix'd  with  men  in  mortal  fight: 

Th'  exulting  mother  ftain'd  with  filial  blood  ; 

The  favage  hunter,  and  the  haunted  wood ; 

The  direful  banquet  why  fhould  I  proclaim, 

And  crimes  that  grieve  the  trembling  Gods  to  name? 

E're  I  recount  the  fins  of  thefe  profane, 

The  fun  would  fink  into  the  weftern  main, 

And  rifing  gild  the  radiant  eaft  again.  ) 

Have  we  not  feen  (the  blood  of  Laius  lhed) 

The  murd'ring  fon  afcend  his  parent's  bed, 

Thro'  violated  nature  force  his  way, 

And  ftain  the  facred  womb  where  once  he  lay? 

Yet  now  in  darknefs  and  defpair  he  groans, 

And  for  the  crimes  of  guilty  fate  attones ; 

His  fons  with  fcorn  their  eyelefs  Either  \icwy 

Infult  his  wounds,  and  make  them  bleed  atffcw. 


Thy 


STATIUS   his   THEBAIS.  321 

Thy  curfe,  oh  Oedipus,  juft  heav'n  alarms, 

And  fets  th*  avenging  thunderer  in  arms. 

I  from  the  root  thy  guilty  race  will  tear, 

And  give  the  nations  to  the  wafte  of  war. 

Adraflus  foon,  with  Gods  averfe,  lhall  join 

In  dire  alliance  with  the  Thehan  line ; 

Hence  ftrife  lhall  rife,  and  mortal  war  fucceed ; 

The  guilty  realms  of  Tantalus  lhall  bleed  ; 

Fix'd  is  their  doom ;   this  all-remembring  breaffc 

Yet  harbours  vengeance  for  the  Tyrant's  feaft. 

He  faid ;  and  thus  the  Queen  of  heav'n  returned ; 
(With  fudden  grief  her  lab'ring  bofom  burn'd) 
Muft  I  whofe  cares  Phoroneus*  tow'rs  defend, 
Muft  I,  oh  Jove,  in  bloody  wars  contend  ? 
Thou  know'ft  thofe  regions  my  protection  claim, 
Glorious  in  arms,  in  riches,  and  in  fame : 
Tho'  there  the  fair  AEgyptian  heifer  fed, 
And  there  deluded  Argus  flept,  and  bled  ; 
Thov  there  the  brazen  tow'r  was  ftorm'd  of  old, 
When  Jove  defcended  in  almighty  gold. 

T  t  Yet 


322  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Yet  I  can  pardon  thofe  obfeurer  rapes, 
Thofe  bafhful  crimes  difguis'd  in  borrow'd  Ihapes •• 
But  Thebes,  where  Aiming  in  coeleftial  charms 
Thou  cam'ft  triumphant  to  a  mortal's  arms, 
When  all  my  glories  o'er  her  limbs  were  fpread; 
And  blading  lightnings  dane'd  around  her  bed  ; 
Curs'dThe&es  the  vengeance  it  deferves,  may  prove,- 
Ah  why  fhou'd  Argos  feel  the  rage  of  Jove  ? 
Yet  fince  thou  wilt  thy  fifter-Queen  controul, 
Since  ftill  the  luft  of  difcord  fires  thy  foul, 
GoT  rafe  my  Santos,  let  Mycene  fall, 
And  level  with  the  duft  the  Spartan  wall: 
No  more  let  mortals  Juno's  pow'r  invoke, 
Her  fanes  no  more  with  eaftern  incenfe  fmoke, 

Nor  vi&ims  fink  beneath  the  facred  ftroke ;         ) 
But  to  your  IJis  all  my  rites  transfer, 
Let  altars  blafce  and  temples  fmoke  for  her; 
For  her,  thro'  ^Egypt's  fruitful  clime  renowned, 
Let  weeping  Niks  hear  the  timbrel  found. 


But 


i 


I 


STATIUS   his   THEBAIS.  323 

But  if  thou  muft  reform  the  ftubborn  times, 
Avenging  on  the  fons  the  father's  crimes, 
And  from  the  long  records  of  diftant  age 
Derive  incitements  to  renew  thy  rage ; 
Say,  from  what  period  then  has  Jove  defign'd 
To  date  his  vengeance;  to  what  bounds  confin'd  ? 
Begin  from  thence,  where  firft  Alpheus  hides 
His  wandring  ftream,  and  thro'  the  briny  tides, 
XJnmix'd,  to  his  Sicilian  river  glides.  j 

Thy  own  Arcadians  there  the  thunder  claim, 
Whofe  impious  rites  difgrace  thy  mighty  name, 
Who  raife  thy  temples  where  the  chariot  flood 
Of  fierce  Oen'omaus,  defiFd  with  blood ; 
Where  once  his  fteeds  their  favage  banquet  found, 
And  human  bones  yet  whiten  all  the  ground. 
Say,  can  thofe  honours  pleafe  ?  and  can'ft  thou  love 
Prefumptuous  Crete,  that  boafte  the  tomb  of  Jove  ? 
And  fliall  not  Tantalus  his  kingdoms  lhare 
Thy  wife  and  filter's  tutelary  care  ? 

Tt  2  Reverie, 


32+  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Reverfe,  O  Jove,  thy  too  fevere  decree, 
Nor  doom  to  war  a  race  deriv'd  from  thee ; 
On  impious  realms,  and  barb  rous  Kings,  impofe 
Thy  plagues,  and  curfe  'em  with  fuch  *  fons  as  thofe. 

Thus,  in  reproach  and  pray'r,  the  Queen  exprefl 
The  rage  and  grief  contending  in  her  breaffc ; 
Unmov'd  remained  the  ruler  of  the  sky", 
And  from  his  throne  return 'd  this  ftern  reply. 
Twas  thus  I  deem'd  thy  haughty  foul  would  bear  J 
The  dire,  tho'  juft,  revenge  which  I  prepare        y 
Againft  a  Nation  thy  peculiar  care:  J 

No  h&Dione  might  for  Theses  contend, 
Nor  Bacchus  lefs  his  native  town  defend, 
Yet  thefe  in  filence  fee  the  fates  fulfil 
Their  work,  and  rev'rence  our  fuperior  will. 
For  by  the  black  infernal  Styx  I  fwear, 
(That  dreadful  oath  which  binds  the  thunderer) 
?Tis  fix'd ;  th'  irrevocable  doom  of  Jove ; 
No  force  can  bend  me,  no  perfuafion  move. 


*  Tydeus  and  Polynices, 

Halle 


STAJIVS    his    THEBAIS:  325 

Hafte  then,  Cyllenius,  thro'  the  liquid  air ; 
Go  mount  the  winds,  and  to  the  lhades  repair ; , 
Bid  hell's; black  monarch  my  commands  obey, . 
And  give  up  Laius  to  the  realms  of  day, 
Whofe  ghoft,  yet  ftiiv'ring  on  Cocytus'  fand,. 
Expe&s  its  paffage  to  the  farther  ftrand  : 
Let  the  pale  fire  revifit  Thebes,  and  bear. 
Thefe  pleafing  orders  to  the  Tyrant's  ear;: 
That,  from  his  exil'd  brother,  fwell'd  with  pride 
Of  foreign  forces,  and  his  Argive  bride? 
Almighty  Jove  commands  him  to  detain 
The  promis'd  empire,  and  alternate  reign : 
Be  this  the  caufe  of  more  than  mortal  hate ; 
The  reft,  fucceeding  times  lhall  ripen  into  fate? 

The  God  obeys,  and  to  his  feet  applies 
Thofe  golden  wings  that  cut  the  yielding  skies ; 
His  ample  hat  his  beamy  locks  o'erfpread, 
And  veil'd  the  ftarry  glories  of  his  head: 
He  feiz'd  his  wand  that  caufes  fleep  to  fly, 

Or  in  foft  flumbers  feals  the  wakeful  eye^ 

3  That 


326  The    FIRST    BOOK    <f 

That  drives  the  dead  to  dark  Tartarean  coaffo, 
Or  back  to  life  compels  the  wondring  ghofts. 
Thus,  thro'  the  parting  xlouds,  the  fon  of  May 
Wings  on  the  whittling  winds  his  rapid  way, 
Now  fmoothly  fleers  thro' air  his  equal  flight, 
Now  fprings  aloft,  and  tow'rs  th'  ethereal  height, 
Then  wheeling  down  the  fteep  of  heav'n  he  flies, 
And  draws  a  radiant  circle  o'er  the  skies. 
Meantime  the  banifh'd  Polynices  roves 
(His  Thehes  abandoned)  thro'  thJAonian  groves, 
While  future  realms  his  wandring  thoughts  delight, 
His  daily  vifion,  and  his  dream  by  night ; 
Forbidden  Thehes  appears  before  his  eye, 
From  whence  he  fees  his  abfent  brother  fly, 
With  tranfport  views  the  airy  rule  his  own, 
And  fwells  on  an  imaginary  throne. 
Fain  would  he  caft  a  tedious  age  away, 
And  live  out  all  in  one  triumphant  day. 
He  chides  the  lazy  progrefs  of  the  fun, 
And  bids  the  year  with  fwifter  motion  run. 


I 


STAT  f  US   his    THEBAIC  327 

With  anxious  hopes  his  craving  mind  is  toft, 
And  all  his  joys  in  length  of  wifhes  loft. 

The  hero  then  refolves  his  courfe  to  bend 
Where  ancient  Danaus'  fruitful  fields  extend, 
And  fam'd  Myceneys  lofty  tow'rs  afcend,  j 

(Where  late  the  fun  did  Atreusi  crimes  deteft 
And  difappear'd,  in  horror  of  the  feaft.) 
And  now  by  chance,  by  fete,  or  furies  led, 
From  Bacchus9  confecrated  caves  he  fled, 
Where  the  flirill  cries  of  frantic  matrons  found, 
And  Penthew'  blood  enrich'd  the  riling  ground. 
Then  fees  Cytharon  tow 'ring  o'er  the  plain, 
And  thence  declining  gently  to  the  maim 
Next  to  the  bounds  of  Nifusy  realm  repairs^ 
Where  treach'rous  Scytta  cut  the  purple  hairs : 
The  hanging  cliffs  of  Scyron's  rock  explores, 
And  hears  the  murmurs  of  the  different  fhores : 
Paffes  the  ftrait  that  parts  the  foaming  feas> 
And  ftately  Corinth's  pleafing  fite  furveys, 

'Twas 


328  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

'Twas  now  the  time  when  Phoebus  yields  to  night, 
And  rifing  Cynthia  lheds  her  filver  light, 
Wide  o'er  the  world  in  folemn  pomp  fhe  drew 
Her  airy  chariot,  hung  with  pearly  dew ; 
All  birds  and  beads  lie  hufli'd ;  fleep  fteals  away 
The  wild  defires  of  men,  and  toils  of  day, 
And  brings,  defending  thro'  the  filent  air, 
A  fweet  forgetfulnefs  of  human  care. 
Yet  no  red  clouds,  with  golden  borders  gay, 
Promife  the  skies  the  bright  return  of  day ; 
No  faint  reflexions,  of  the  diftant  light 
Streak  with  long  gleams  the  featuring  fliades  of  nighty 
From  the  damp  earth  impervious  vapours  rife, 
Encreafe  the  darknefs  and  involve  the  skies. 
At  once  the  xufhing  winds  with  roaring  found 
Burft  from  itiALolian  caves,  and  rend  the  ground, 
With  equal  rage  their  airy  quarrel  try, 
And  win  by  turns  the  kingdom  of  the  sky : 
But  with  a  thicker  night  black  Aujier  fhrouds 
The  heav'ns.  and  drives  on  heaps  the  rowling  clouds, 

From 


STAT  I  US    his    THEBAIS.  329 

From  whofe  dark  womb  a  ratling  tempeft  pours, 
Which  the  cold  north  congeals  to  haily  Ihow'rs. 
From  pole  to  pole  the  thunder  roars  aloud, 
And  broken  lightnings  flalli  from  ev'ry  cloud. 
Now  fmoaks  with  fhow'rs  the  mifty  mountain-ground, 
And  floated  fields  lie  undiftinguiflrd  round  : 
Ttilnachian  ftreams  with  headlong  fury  run, 
And  Erajinus  rowls  a  deluge  on : 
The  foaming  Lerna  fwells  above  its  bounds, 
And  fpreads  its  ancient  poifons  o'er  the  grounds : 
Where  late  was  duft,  now  rapid  torrents  play, 
Rulli  thro'  the  mounds,  and  bear  the  damms  away: 
Old  limbs  of  trees  from  crackling  forefts  torn. 
Are  whirl'd  in  air,  and  on  the  winds  are  born ; 
The  ftorm  the  dark  Lycean  groves  difplay'd, 
And  firft  to  light  expos'd  the  facred  fliade, 
Th' intrepid  Theban  hears  the  burfting  sky, 
Sees  yawning  rocks  in  mafly  fragments  fly, 
And  views  aftonifh'd,  from  the  hills  afar, 
The  floods  defcending  and  the  watry  war, 

U  u  That 


330  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

That  driv'n  by  ftorms,  and  pouring  o'er  the  plain, 
Swept  herds,  and  hinds,  and  houfes  to  the  main. 
Thro'  the  brown  horrors  of  the  night  he  fled, 
Nor  knows,  amaz,'d,  what  doubtful  path  to  tread, 
His  brother's  image  to  his  mind  appears, 
Inflameshisheartwithrage,andwingshisfeetwithfears. 

So  fares  a  failor  on  the  ftormy  main, 
When  clouds  conceal  Bootes  golden  wain, 
When  not  a  ftar  its  friendly  luftre  keeps, 
Nor  trembling  Cynthia  glimmers  on  the  deeps ; 
He  dreads  the  rocks,  and  fhoals,  and  feas,  and  skies, 
While  thunder  roars,  and  lightning  round  him  Hies. 

Thus  ftrove  the  chief  on  ev'ry  fide  diftrefs'd, 

Thus  ftill  his  courage,  with  his  toils,  encreas'd  ; 

With  his  broad  fhield  oppos'd,  he  forc'd  his  way 

Thro'  thickeft  woods,  and  rowz'd  the  beads  of  prey. 

Till  he  beheld,  where  from  Larijfa's  height 

The  ihelving  walls  reflect  a  glancing  light ; 

Thither  with  hafte  the  Theban  hero  flies ; 

On  this  fide  Lema's  pois'nous  water  lies, 

On  that,  Projymna's  grove  and  temple  rife :  j 

He 


STJTIUS   his    THEBAIS.  331 

He  pafs'd  the  gates  which  then  unguarded  lay, 
And  to  the  regal  palace  bent  his  way; 
On  the  cold  marble  fpent  with  toil  he  lies, 
And  waits  till  pleafing  flumbers  feal  his  eyes. 

Adraftus  here  his  happy  people  fways, 
Blefs'd  with  calm  peace  in  his  declining  days, 
By  both  his  parents  of  defcent  divine, 
Great  Jove  and  Vhcehus  grac'd  his  noble  line ; 
Heav'n  had  not  crown'd  his  wiflies  with  a  fon, 
But  two  fair  daughters  heir'd  his  ftate  and  throne. 
To  him  Apollo  (wondrous  to  relate ! 
But  who  can  pierce  into  the  depths  of  fate  ?) 
Had  fung —  "  Expe6t  thy  fons  on  Argos'  fhore, 
"  A  yellow  lion  and  a  briftly  boar. 
This,  long  revolv'd  in  his  paternal  breaft, 
Sate  heavy  on  his  heart,  and  broke  his  reft  ; 
This,  great  Amphiaraus,  lay  hid  from  thee, 
Tho'  skill'd  in  fate  and  dark  futurity. 
The  father's  care  and  prophet's  art  were  vain, 
For  thus  did  the  predicting  God  ordain. 

U  u  2  Lo 


332  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Lo  haplefs  Tydeus,  whofe  ill-fated  hand 
Had  flain  his  brother,  leaves  his  native  land, 
And  feiz'd  with  horror,  in  the  fhades  of  night, 
Thro'  the  thick  defarts  headlong  urg'd  his  flight : 
Now  by  the  fury  of  the  tempefts  driv'n 
He  feeks  a  flielter  from  th' inclement  heav'n, 
Till  led  by  fate,  the  Theban's  fteps  he  treads, 
And  to  fair  Argos*  open  court  fucceeds. 

When  thus  the  chiefs  from  difFrent  lands  refort 
T'AdraJius  realms,  and  hofpitable  court, 
The  King  furveys  his  guefts  with  curious  eyes, 
And  views  their  arms  and  habit  with  furpri&e. 
A  lion's  yellow  skin  the  Theban  wears, 
Horrid  his  mane,  and  rough  with  curling  hairs ; 
Such  once  employ'd  Abides*  youthful  toils, 
E're  yet  adorn'd  with  Nemecfs  dreadful  fpoils. 
A  boar's  ftiff*  hide,  of  Caledonian  breed, 
Oenides''  manly  fhoulders  overfpread, 
Oblique  his  tusks,  ere6l  his  briftles  flood, 
Alive,  the  pride  and  terror  of  the  wood. 

Struck 


STATIUS    his    THEBAIS.  33$ 

Struck  with  the  fight,  and  fix'd  in  deep  ama£e? 
The  King  th'  accomplifh'd  oracle  furveys? 
Reveres  Apollo's  vocal  caves,  and  owns 
The  guiding  Godhead,  and  his  future  fons. 
O'er  all  his  bofom  fecret  tranfports  reign, 
And  a  glad  horror  fhoots  thro'  ev'ry  vein  : 
To  heav'n  he  lifts  his  hands,  erects  his  fight,. 
And  thus  invokes  the  filent  Queen  of  night. 

Goddefs  of  Jhades,  beneath  whofe  gloomy  reign 
Yon'  fpangled  arch  glows  with  the  ftarry  train, 
You  who  the  cares  of  heav'n  and  earth  allay,         1 
Till  nature,  quickned  by  th'  infpiring  ray,  > 

Wakes  to  new  vigour  with  the  rifing  day.  ) 

Oh  thou  who  freeft  me  from  my  doubtful  ftate, 
Long  loft  and  wilder 'd  in  the  maze  of  fate  ! 
Be  prefent  ftill,  oh  Goddefs !  in  our  aid ; 
Proceed,  and  firm  thofe  Omens  thou  haft  made t 
We  to  thy  name  our  annual  rites  will  pay, 
And.  on  thy  altars  facrifices  lay; 


Tha 


I 


334.  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

The  fable  flock  fhall  fall  beneath  the  ftroke, 
And  fill  thy  temples  with  a  grateful  fmoke : 
Hail,  faithful  Tripos  I  hail,  ye  dark  abodes 
Of  awful  Vhoebus :    I  confefs  the  Gods  ! 

Thus,  feiz'd  with  facred  fear,  the  Monarch  pray'd ; 
Then  to  his  inner  court  the  guefts  convey'd ; 
Where  yet  thin  fumes  from  dying  fparks  arife, 
And  dull  yet  white  upon  each  altar  lies ; 
The  relicks  of  a  former  facrifice.  ; 

The  King  once  more  the  folemn  rites  requires, 
And  bids  renew  the  feafts,  and  wake  the  fires. 
His  train  obey,  while  all  the  courts  around 
With  noify  care  and  various  tumult  found. 
Embroider 'd  purple  cloaths  the  golden  beds  ; 
This  flave  the  floor,  and  that  the  table  fpreads ; 
A  third  difpels  the  darknefs  of  the  night, 
And  fills  depending  lamps  with  beams  of  light ; 
Here  loaves  in  canifters  are  piPd  on  high, 
And  there,  in  flames  the  flaughter'd  vi6Hms  fry. 

Sublime 


STATIUS   his    THEBAIS.  335 

Sublime  in  regal  ftatc,  Adraflus  ftione, 
Stretch'd  on  rich  carpets,  on  his  iv'ry  throne ; 
A  lofty  couch  receives  each  princely  gueft ; 
Around,  at  awful  diftance,  wait  the  reft. 

And  now  the  King,  his  royal  feaft  to  grace, 
Acejiis  calls,  the  guardian  of  his  race, 
Who  firft  their  youth  in  arts  of  virtue  train'd, 
And  their  ripe  years  in  modeft  grace  maintain'dl 
Then  foftly  whifper'd  in  her  faithful  ear, 
And  bade  his  daughters  at  the  rites  appear. 
When  from  the  clofe  apartments  of  the  night, 
The  royal  nymphs  approach'd  divinely  bright  • 
Such  was  Diana's,  fuch  Minerva's  face ; 
Nor  ftiine  their  beauties  with  fuperior  grace, 
But  that  in  thefe  a  milder  charm  endears, 
And  lefs  of  terror  in  their  looks  appears. 
As  on  the  heroes  firft  they  caft  their  eyes, 
O'er  their  fair  cheeks  the  glowing  blulhes  rife, 
Their  down-caft  looks  a  decent  lhame  confeft, 
Then,  on  their  father's  rev'rend  features  reft. 

The 


33^  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

The  banquet  done,  the  Monarch  gives  the  fign, 
To  fill  the  goblet  high  with  fparkling  wine, 
Which  Danaus  us'd  in  facred  rites  of  old, 
With  fculpture  grac'd,  and  rough  with  riling  gold. 
Here  to  the  clouds  victorious  Verjeus  flies ;  "j 

Medufa  feems  to  move  her  languid  eyes,  v. 

And  ev'n  in  gold,  turns  paler  as  fhe  dies.  ) 

There  from  the  chace  Jove's  tow 'ring  eagle  bears 
On  golden  wings,  the  Phrygian  to  the  liars ; 
Still  as  he  rifes  in  th'  aethereal  height, 
His  native  mountains  leffen  to  his  fight ; 
While  all  his  fad  companions  upward  gaze, 
Fix'd  on  the  glorious  fcene  in  wild  amaze, 
And  the  fwifc  hounds,  affrighted  as  he  flies, 
Run  to  the  fhade,  and  bark  againft  the  skies. 

This  golden  bowl  with  gen'rous  juice  was  crown'd, 
The  firft  libations  fprinkled  on  the  ground  : 
By  turns  on  each  celeftial  pow'r  they  call ; 
With  Phoebus"  name  refounds  the  vaulted  hall. 


The 


STATIUS    his    THEBAIS.  33 7 

The  courtly  train,  the  ftrangers,  and  the  reft, 
Crown'd  with  chafte  lawrel,  and  with  garlands  dreft, 
(While  with  rich  gums  the  fuming  altars  blafce) 
Salute  the  God  in  num'rous  hymns  of  praife. 

Then  thus  the  King  :    Perhaps,  my  noble  guefts, 
Thefe  honour'd  altars,  and  thefe  annual  feafts, 
To  bright  Apollo's  awful  name  defign'd, 
Unknown,  with  wonder  may  perplex  your  mind. 
Great  was  the  caufe  ;    our  old  folemnities 
From  no  blind  zeal  or  fond  tradition  rife; 
But  fav'd  from  death,  our  Argives  yearly  pay 
Thefe  grateful  honours  to  the  God  of  Day. 

When  by  a  thoufand  darts  the  Python  flain 
With  orbs  unroll'd  lay  covering  all  the  plain, 
(Transfix'd  as  o'er  Cctftalias  ftreams  he  hung, 
And  fuck'd  new  poifons  with  his  triple  tongue) 
To  Argos9  realms  the  vi£k>r  God  reforts, 
And  enters  old  Crotopus'  humble  courts. 
This  rural  prince  one  only  daughter  bleft, 
That  all  the  charms  of  blooming  youth  pofTeft ; 

X  x  Fair 


338         *      The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Fair  was  her  face,  and  fpotlefs  was  her  mind, 
Where  filial  love  with  virgin  fweetnefs  join'd. 
Happy !  and  happy  ftill  flie  might  have  prov'd ; 
Were  Ihe  lefs  beautiful,  or  lefs  belov'd ! 
But  Phoebus  lov'd,  and  on  the  flow'ry  fide 
Of  Nemea's  ftream,  the  yielding  fair  enjoy'd ; 
And  e'er  ttr\  moons  their  orb  with  light  adorn, 
Th'  illuftrious  ofF-fpring  of  the  God  was  bora 
The  nymph,  her  father's  anger  to  evade, 
Now  flies  from  Argos  to  the  fylvan  fliade, 
To  woods  and  wilds  the  pleafing  burden  bears, 
And  trufts  her  infant  to  a  fhepherd's  cares. 

How  mean  a  fate,  unhappy  child !  is  thine  ? 
Ah  how  unworthy  thofe  of  race  divine  ? 
On  flow'ry  herbs  in  fome  green  covert  laid, 
His  bed  the  ground,  his  canopy  the  fhade, 
He  mixes  with  the  bleating  lambs  his  cries ; 
While  the  rude  fwain  his  rural  mufic  tries, 
To  call  foft  {lumbers  on  his  infant  eyes. 


s 


Yet 


STAT1US   his   THEBJIS.  339 

Yet  ev'n  in  thofe  obfcure  abodes  to  live, 
Was  more,  alas !  than  cruel  fate  would  give ! 
For  on  the  grafTy  verdure  as  he  lay, 
And  breath'd  the  frelhnefs  of  the  rifing  day, 
Devouring  dogs  the  helplefs  infant  tore, 
Fed  on  his  trembling  limbs,  and  lapp'd  the  gore. 
Th'  aftonifh'd  mother  when  the  rumour  came, 
Forgets  her  father,  and  negle&s  her  fame, 
With  loud  complaints  ihe  fills  the  yielding  air, 
And  beats  her  breaft,  and  rends  her  flowing  hair; 
Then  wild  with  anguifh,  to  her  Sire  Ihe  flies ; 
Demands  the  fentence,  and  contented  dies. 

But  touch'd  with  forrow  for  the  dead,  too  late, 
The  raging  God  prepares  t' avenge  her  fate. 
He  fends  a  monfter,  horrible  and  fell, 
Begot  by  furies  in  the  depths  of  hell. 
The  peft  a  virgin's  face  and  bofom  bears  ;  1 

High  on  her  crown  a  rifing  fnake  appears,  > 

Guards  her  black  front,  and  hiffes  in  her  hairs:  ) 

X  x  2  About 


3+o  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

About  the  realm  ihe  walks  her  dreadful  round, 
When  night  with  fable  wings  o'erfpreads  the  ground, 
Devours  young  babes  before  their  parent's  eyes, 
And  feeds  and  thrives  on  publick  miferies. 

But  gen'rous  rage  the  bold  Chorabus  warms, 
Chorabus,  fam'd  for  virtue,  as  for  arms ; 
Some  few  like  him,  infpir'd  with  martial  flame, 
Thought  a  lhort  life  well  loft  for  endlefs  fame. 
Thefe,  where  two  ways  in  equal  parts  divide,         \ 
The  direful  monfter  from  afar  defcry'd  ;  ^ 

Two  bleeding  babes  depending  at  her  fide ;  ) 

Whofe  panting  vitals,  warm  with  life,  fhe  draws, 
And  in  their  hearts  embrues  her  cruel  claws. 
The  youth  furround  her  with  extended  fpears ; 
But  brave  Chorabus  in  the  front  appears, 
Deep  in  her  breaft  he  plung'd  his  fhining  fword, 
And  hell's  dire  monfter  back  to  hell  reftor'd. 
Th'  Inachians  view'd  the  flain  with  vaft  furprize, 
Her  twilling  volumes,  and  her  rowling  eyes, 


Her 


STATIUS    his    THEBAIS.  341 

Her  fpotted  breaft,  and  gaping  womb  embru'd 
With  livid  poifon,  and  our  infant's  blood. 
The  crowd  in  ftupid  wonder  fix'd  appear, 
Pale  ev'n  in  joy,  nor  yet  forget  to  fear. 
Some  with  vafl  beams  the  fquallid  corps  engage, 
And  weary  all  the  wild  efforts  of  rage. 

The  birds  obfcene,  that  nightly  flock 'd  to  tail, 
With  hollow  fcreeches  fled  the  dire  repaft ; 

And  ravenous  dogs,  allur'd  by  fcented  blood, 

And  ftarving  wolves,  ran  howling  to  the  wood. 

But  fir'd  with  rage,  from  cleft  Parnajfus'  brow 
Avenging  Thoebus  bent  his  deadly  bow, 
And  hiding  flew  the  feather'd  fates  below ;  j 

A  night  of  fultry  clouds  involv'd  around 
The  tow'rs,  the  fields,  and  the  devoted  ground: 
And  now  a  thoufand  lives  together  fled,  1 

Death  with  his  fcythe  cut  off  the  fatal  thread,       > 
And  a  whole  province  in  his  triumph  led.  ) 

But  Phoebus,  ask'd  why  noxious  fires  appear, 
And  raging  Sirius  blafts  the  fickly  year, 

3  Demands 


1 


342  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Demands  their  lives  by  whom  his  monfler  fell^ 
And  dooms  a  dreadful  facrifice  to  hell. 

Blefs'd  be  thy  duft,  and  let  eternal  fame 
Attend  thy  Manes,  and  preferve  thy  name; 
Undaunted  Hero !  who,  divinely  brave, 
In  fuch  a  caufe  difdain'd  thy  life  to  fave  5 
But  view'd  the  flirine  with  a  fuperior  look, 
And  its  upbraided  Godhead  thus  befpoke. 

With  piety,  the  foul's  fecureft  guard, 
And  confcious  virtue,  ftill  its  own  reward, 
Willing  I  come,  unknowing  how  to  fear ; 
Nor  flialt  thou,  Phoebus,  find  a  fuppliant  here. 
Thy  monfter's  death  to  me  was  ow'd  alone, 
And  'tis  a  deed  too  glorious  to  difown. 
Behold  him  here,  for  whom,  fo  many  days, 
Impervious  clouds  conceal'd  thy  fullen  rays ; 
For  whom,  as  Man  no  longer  claim'd  thy  care, 
Such  numbers  fell  by  peftilential  air ! 
But  if  th'  abandon'd  race  of  human-kind 
From  Gods  above  no  more  compaflion  find, 


If 


I 

s 


STAT  I  US   his    THEBAIS.  3+3 

If  fuch  inclemency  in  heav'n  can  dwell ; 
Yet  why  muft  un-offending  Argos  feel 
The  vengeance  due  to  this  unlucky  fteel  ? 
On  me,  on  me,  let  all  thy  fury  fall, 
Nor  err  from  me,  fince  I  deferve  it  all: 
Unlefs  our  defart  cities  pleafe  thy  fight, 
And  fun'ral  flames  refledl  a  grateful  light 
Difcharge  thy  fhafts,  this  ready  bofom  rend, 
And  to  the  fliades  a  ghoffc  triumphant  fend  ; 
But  for  my  Country  let  my  fate  attone, 
Be  mine  the  vengeance,  as  the  crime  my  own* 

Merit  diftrefs'd,  impartial  heav'n  relieves ; 
Unwelcome  life  relenting  Vhcehus  gives ; 
For  not  the  vengeful  Pow'r,  that  glow'd  with  rage, 
With  fuch  amazing  virtue  durft  engage. 
The  clouds  difpers'd,  Apollo's  wrath  expired, 
And  from  the  wondringGod  th'un  willing  youth  retir'd. 
Thence  we  thefe  altars  in  his  temple  raife, 
And  offer  annual  honours,  feafts,  and  praife ; 

Thefe 


34+  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Thefe  folemn  feafts  propitious  Phoebus  pleafe, 
Thefe  honours,  ftill  renew'd,  his  antient  wrath  appeafe.' 

But  fay,  illuftrious  gueft  (adjoin'd  the  King) 
What  name  you  bear,  from  what  high  race  you  fpring? 
The  noble  Tydeus  Hands  confefs'd,  and  known 
Our  neighbour  Prince,  and  heir  of  Cdydon. 
Relate  your  fortunes,  while  the  friendly  night 
And  filent  hours  to  various  talk  invite. 

The  Theban  bends  on  earth  his  gloomy  eyes, 
Confus'd,  and  fadly  thus  at  length  replies : 
Before  thefe  altars  how  fhall  I  proclaim 
(Oh  gen'rous  prince)  my  nation  or  my  name, 
Or  thro'  what  veins  our  antient  blood  has  roll'd  ? 
Let  the  fad  tale  for  ever  reft  untold ! 
Yet  if  propitious  to  a  wretch  unknown, 
You  feek  to  fhare  in  forrows  not  your  own ; 
Know  then,  from  Cadmus  I  derive  my  race, 
yocafla's  fon,  and  Thebes  my  native  place. 
To  whom  the  King,  (who  felt  his  gen'rous  breaft 
Touch'd  with  concern  for  his  unhappy  gueft) 

Replies — 


STATIUS   his    THEBAIS.  345 

Replies — Ah  why  forbears  the  fon  to  name 
His  wretched  father,  known  too  well  by  fame  ? 
Fame,  that  delights  around  the  world  to  ftray, 
Scorns  not  to  take  our  Argos  in  her  way. 
Ev'n  thole  who  dwell  where  funs  at  diftance  roll, 
In  northern  wilds,  and  freeze  beneath  the  pole ; 
And  thofe  who  tread  the  burning  Lybian  lands, 
The  faithlefs  Syrtes  and  the  moving  fands ; 
Who  view  the  weftern  fea's  extremeft  bounds, 
Or  drink  of  Ganges  in  their  eaftern  grounds; 
All  thefe  the  woes  of  Oedipus  have  known, 
Your  fates,  your  furies,  and  your  haunted  town. 
If  on  the  fons  the  parents  crimes  defcend, 
What  Prince  from  thofe  his  lineage  can  defend  ? 
Be  this  thy  comfort,  that  'tis  thine  t'  efface  1 

With  virtuous  acts  thy  anceftor's  dilgrace,  > 

And  be  thy  felf  the  honour  of  thy  race.  ) 

But  fee !  the  ftars  begin  to  ileal  away, 
And  fhine  more  faintly  at  approaching  day; 
Now  pour  the  wine ;   and  in  your  tuneful  lays, 
Once  more  refound  the  great  Apollo's  praife. 

Yy  Oh 


3+tf  The    FIRST    BOOK    of 

Oh  father  Vhosbus !  whether  Lycia's  coaft 
And  fnowy  mountains,  thy  bright  prefence  boaft ; 
Whether  to  fweet  Cciftalia  thou  repair, 
And  bathe  in  filver  dews  thy  yellow  hair ; 
Or  pleas'd  to  find  fair  T)elos  float  no  more, 
Delight  in  Cynthus,  and  the  fliady  fliore ; 
Or  chufe  thy  feat  in  Iliorfs  proud  abodes, 
The. Alining  ftru6tures  rais'd  by  lab'ring  Gods. 
By  thee  the  bow  and  mortal  Aiafts  are  born ; 
Eternal  charms,  thy  blooming  youth  adorn : 
SkilPd  in  the  laws  of  fecret  fate  above, 
And  the  dark  counfels  of  almighty  Jove, 
'Tis  thine  the  feeds  of  future  war  to  know, 
The  change  of  fcepters,  and  impending  woe  ; 
When  direful  meteors  fpread  thro'  glowing  air 
Long  trails  of  light,  and  fliake  their  blading  hair. 
Thy  rage  the  Phrygian  felt,  who  durft  afpire 
T'  excell  the  mufic  of  thy  heav'nly  lyre ; 
Thy  Aiafts  aveng'd  lewd  Tityus  guilty  flame, 

Th'  immortal  vidim  of  thy  mother's  fame ; 

Thy 


STAT  I  US   his    THEBAIS.  34.7 

Thy  hand  flew  Python,  and  the  dame  who  loft 
Her  num'rous  off-fpring  for  a  fatal  boaft. 
In  Phlegias'  doom  thy  juft  revenge  appears, 
Condemned  to  furies  and  eternal  fears ; 
He  views  his  food,  but  dreads,  with  lifted  eye, 
The  mouldring  rock  that  trembles  from  on  high. 

Propitious  hear  our  pray'r,  O  Pow'r  divine ! 
And  on  thy  hofpitable  jirgos  fhine. 
Whether  the  ftyle  of  Titan  pleafe  thee  more, 
Whofe  purple  rays  X\\  Achcemenes  adore; 
Or  great  Ofyris,  who  firft  taught  the  fwain 
In  Pharian  fields  to  fow  the  golden  grain ; 
Or  Mitra,  to  whofe  beams  the  Perjian  bows, 
And  pays,  in  hollow  rocks,  his  awful  vows, 
Mitra,  whofe  head  the  bla£e  of  light  adorns, 
Who  grafps  the  ftrugling  Heifer's  lunar  horns. 


Yy  2  PART 


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PART  OF  THE 


THIRTEENTH   BOOK 


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HOME  R « 


ODYSSE S 


S§9S59SS3SS3S93S?^HraH53SS9R§9S?3B^ 


&mmm&MMhmgmM£mmg@&g® 


Part  of  the 

THIRTEENTH    BOOK 


O   F 


HOMERS   ODTSSES*. 


The  beginning  of  this  book  defcribes  the  parting  of  Ulyffes  from 
Phsacia,-  with  the  gifts  0/Alcinous  to  his  guefi  ,•  and  his  ta- 
king Jhip  for  his  native  country  Ithaca. 

HE  Sun  defcending,  the  Vhaacian 

train 

Spread  their  broad  fails,. and  launch 

into  the  main  : 

At  once  they  bend,  and  ftrike  their  equal  oars, 

And  leave  the  finking  hills,  and  lefs'ning  lhores* 

While  on  the  deck  the  Chief  in  filence  lies> 

And  pleafing  flumbers  fteal  upon  his  eyes. 

As 


352  Part  of  the  XIIIth  BOOK  of 

As  fiery  couriers  in  the  rapid  race, 
Urg'd  by  fierce  drivers  thro'  the  dufty  fpace, 
Tofs  their  high  heads;  and  fcour  along  the  plain ; 
So  mounts  the  bounding  vefTel  o'er  the  main: 
Back  to  the  ftern  the  parted  billows  flow, 
And  the  black  ocean  foams  and  roars  below. 

Thus  with  fpread  fails  the  winged  gaily  flies; 
Lefs  fwift,  an  eagle  cuts  the  liquid  skies : 
Divine  Ulyjfes  was  her  facred  load, 
A  man,  in  wifdom  equal  to  a  God. 
Much  danger  long,  and  mighty  toils  he  bore, 
In  florms  by  fea,  and  combats  on  the  fhore : 
All  which  foft  fleep  now  haniih'd  from  his  breaft ; 
Wrapt  in  a  pleafing,  deep,  and  death-like  reft. 

But  when  the  morning  ftar  with  early  ray 
Flam'd  in  the  front  of  heav'n,  and  promis'd  day, 
Like  diflant  clouds  the  mariner  defcries 
Fair  Ithaca's  emerging  hills  arife. 
Far  from  the  town,  a  fpacious  port  appears, 
Sacred  to  Phorcys'  pow'r,  whofe  name  it  bears ; 

Two 


HOMER's    ODTSSES.  353 

• 

Two  craggy  rocks,  projecting  to  the  main, 
The  roaring  winds  tempeftuous  rage  reftrain  ; 
Within,  the  waves  in  fofter  murmurs  glide, 
And  fliips  fecure  without  their  haulfers  ride. 
High  at  the  head  a  branching  olive  grows, 
And  crowns  the  pointed  cliffs  with  fhady  boughs. 
Beneath,  a  gloomy  Grotto's  cool  recefs, 
Delights  the  Nereids  of  the  neighboring  feas ; 
Where  bowls  and  urns  were  form'd  of  living  ftone, 
And  mafly  beams  in  native  marble  flione, 
On  which  the  labours  of  the  nymphs  were  roll'd, 
Their  webs  divine  of  purple  mix'd  with  gold. 
Within  the  cave,  the  cluftring  bees  attend 
Their  waxen  works,  or  from  the  roof  depend. 
Perpetual  waters  o'er  the  pavement  glide ; 
Two  marble  doors  unfold  on  either  fide; 
Sacred  the  fouth,  by  which  the  Gods  defcend, 
But  mortals  enter  at  the  northern  end. 

Thither  they  bent,  and  haul'd  their  fliip  to  land, 
(The  crooked  keel  divides  the  yellow  fand) 

Z  z  Uhffes 


I 


35+  Part  of  the  XIIIth  BOOK  of 

Ulyjfes  fleeping,  on  his  couch  they  bore,. 

And  gently  plac'd  him  on  the  rocky  fhore  : 

His  treafures  next,  Alcinous*  gifts,  they  laid 

In  the  wild  olive's  unfrequented  fliade ; 

Secure  from  theft :   then  launch'd  the  bark  again, 

And  tugg'd  their  oars,  and  meafur'd  back  the  main. 

Mean  while  Ulyjfes  in  his  country  lay, 
Releas'd  from  fleep ;  and  round  him  might  furvey    r 
The  folitary  fhore,  and  rowling  fea.  y 

Yet  had  his  mind,  thro'  tedious  abfence,  loft 
The  dear  remembrance  of  his  native  coaft;. 
Befides  Minerva \  to  fecure  her  care, 
Diffus'd  around  a  veil  of  thicken'd  air  : 
For  fo  the  Gods  ordain'd,  to  keep  unfeen 
His  royal  perfon  from  his  friends  and  Queen, 
Till  the  proud  fuitors,  for  their  crimes,  afford 
An  ample  vengeance  to  her  injur'd  Lord. 

Now  all  the  land  another  profpedt  bore, 
Another  port  appear'd,  another  fhore  y 


And 


HOMERs    ODTSSES.  355 

And  long-continu'd  ways,  and  winding  floods, 
And  unknownmountains,crowndwithunknown  woods. 
Penfive  and  flow,  with  fudden  grief  oppreft, 
The  King  arofe,  and  beat  his  careful  breaft, 
Caft  a  long  look  o'er  all  the  coaft  and  main, 
And  fought  around  his  native  realm  in  vain ; 
Then  with  ere&ed  eyes  flood  fix'd  in  woe, 
And,  as  he  fpoke,  the  tears  began  to  flow. 

Ye  Gods  (he  cry'd)  upon  what  barren  coaft, 
In  what  new  region  is  Ulyjfes  toft  ? 
PofTefs'd  by  wild  barbarians  fierce  in  arms  ? 
Or  men,  whofe  bofom  tender  pity  warms? 
Where  fliall  this  treafure  now  in  fafety  lie  ? 
And  whither,  whither  its  fad  owner  fly? 
Ah  why  did  I  Alcinous*  grace  implore? 
Ah  why  forfake  Phaacia's  happy  fliore  ? 
Some  jufter  prince  perhaps  had  entertained, 
And  fafe  reftor'd  me  to  my  native  land. 
Is  this  the  promis'd,  long  expe&ed  coaft; 
And  this  the  faith  Phaacia's  rulers  boaft  ? 

Z  z  2  Oh 


35*  Part  of  tie  XIIIth  BOOK  of 

Oh  righteous  Gods !  of  all  the  great,  how  few 
Are  juft  to  heav'n,  and  to  their  proipife  true  I 
But  he  the  pow'r,  to  whofe  all-feeing  eyes 
The  deeds  of  men  appear  without  difguife, 
TTis  his  alone,  t' avenge  the  wrongs  I  bear; 
For  ftill  th5  opprefs'd  are  his  peculiar  care : 
To  count  thefe  prefents,   and  from  thence  to  prove 
Their  faith,  is  mine,  the  reft  belongs  to  Jove. 

Then  on  the  fands  he  rang'd  his  wealthy  ftore, 
The  gold,  the  vefts,  the  tripods  number'd  o'er ; 
All  thefe  he  found,  but  ftill,  in  error  loft, 
Difconfolate  he  wanders  on  the  coaft : 
Sighs  for  his  country  ;   and  laments  again 
To  the  deaf  rocks,  and  hoarfe-refounding  main. 
When  lo !  the  guardian  Goddefs  of  the  wife, 
Celeftial  Pallas,  ftood  before  his  eyes ; 
In  fhow  a  youthful  fwain,  of  form  divine, 
Who  feem'd  defcended  from  fome  princely  line : 
A  graceful  robe  her  flender  body  dreft, 
Around  her  Ihoulders  flew  the  waving  veft, 

Her 


HOMER's    QDTSSES*  357 

Her  decent  hand  a  fhining  javelin  bore, 

And  painted  fandals  on  her  feet  fhe  wore : 

To  whom  the  King :    Whoe'er  of  human  race 

Thou  art,  that  wander 'ft  in  this  defart  place, 

With  joy  to  thee,  as  to  fome  God,  I  bend, 

To  thee  my  treafures  and  my  felf  commend. 

O  tell  a  wretch,   in  exile  doom'd  to  ftray, 

What  air  I  breath,  what  country  I  furvey  ? 

The  fruitful  continent's  extreameft  bound, 

Or  fome  fair  ifle  which  Neptune's  arms  furround  ? 

From  what  far  clime  (faid  fhe)  remote  from  fame, 

Arriv'ft  thou  here,  a  ftranger  to  our  name  ? 

Thou  feeft  an  ifland,  not  to  thofe  unknown, 

Whofe  hills  are  brighten'd  by  the  riling  fun  ; 

Nor  thofe  that  plac'd  beneath  his  utmoft  reig% 

Behold  him  finking  in  the  weftern  main. 

The  rugged  foil  allows  no  level  fpace 

For  flying  chariots,  or  the  rapid  race; 

Yet  not  ungrateful  to  the  peafant's  pain, 

Suffices  fulnefs  to  the  fwelling  grain  y 

The 


358  Part  of  the  XIIPh  BOOK  of 

The  loaded  trees  their  various  fruits  produce, 
And  cluft'ring  grapes  afford  a  gen'rous  juice; 
Woods  crown  our  mountains,  and  in  ev'ry  grove 
The  bounding  goats  and  frisking  heifers  rove ; 
Soft  rains  and  kindly  dews  refrefh  the  field, 
And  riling  fprings  eternal  verdure  yield. 
Ev'n  to  thofe  Ihores  is  Ithaca  renown'd, 
Where  Trofs  majeftic  ruins  flrow  the  ground. 

At  this,  the  chief  with  tranfport  was  pofTeft, 
His  panting  heart  exulted  in  his  breaft : 
Yet  well  difTembling  his  untimely  joys, 
And  veiling  truth  in  plaufible  difguife ; 
Thus,  with  an  air  fincere,  in  fi£Hon  bold, 
His  ready  tale  th'  inventive  hero  told. 

Oft'  have  I  heard  in  Crete  this  ifland's  name, 
For  'twas  from  Crete \  my  native  foil,  I  came ; 
Self-banifli'd  thence,  I  fail'd  before  the  wind, 
And  left  my  children  and  my  friends  behind. 
From  fierce  Idomeneus*  revenge  I  flew, 
Whofe  fon,   the  fwift  Orfilochus,   I  ilew, 

(With 


HOMER's     ODYSSES.  3S9 

(With  brutal  force  he  feiz'd  my  Trojan  prey, 
Due  to  the  toils  of  many  a  bloody  day.) 
Unfeen  I  Tcap'd ;    and,  favour'd  by  the  night, 
In  a  Vhanician  veflel  took  my  flight ; 
For  Pyle  or  Elis  bound ;   but  tempefts  toft, 
And  raging  billows  drove  us  on  your  coaft : 
In  dead  of  night  an  unknown  port  we  gain'd, 
Spent  with  fatigue,  and  flept  fecure  on  land  \ 
But  'ere  the  rofy  morn  renew'd  the  day, 
While  in  th'  embrace  of  pleafing  fleep  I  lay, 
Sudden,  invited  by  aufpicious  gales, 
They  land  my  goods,  and  hoift  their  flying  fails, 
Abandon'd  here,  my  fortune  I  deplore, 
A  haplefs  exile  on  a  foreign  fhore. 

Thus  while  he  fpoke,  the  blue-ey'd  maid  begat* 
With  pleafing  fmiles  to  view  the  godlike  man ; 
Then  chang'd  her  form,  and  now  divinely  bright 
Jove's  heav'nly  daughter  flood  confefs'd  to  fight, 
Like  a  fair  virgin  in  her  beauty's  bloom, 
Skill'd  in  th5  illuftrious  labours  of  the  loom. 

O  ftilt 


I 


360  Part  of  the  XIII'b  BOOK  of 

O  ftill  the  fame  Ulj/Jfes !  Hie  rejoin'd, 
In  ufeful  craft  fuccefsfully  refin'd ; 
Artful  in  fpeech,  in  action,  and  in  mind  ! 
Suffic'd  it  not,  that  thy  long  labours  part 
Secure  thou  feeft  thy  native  fhore  at  laft  ? 
But  this  to  me  ?   who,  like  thy  felf  excell 
In  arts  of  counfel,  and  difTembling  well : 
To  me,  whofe  wit  exceeds  the  pow'rs  divine, 
No  lefs,  than  mortals  are  furpafs'd  by  thine : 
Know 'ft  thou  not  me,  who  made  thy  life  my  care, 
Thro5  ten  years  wandring,  and  thro'  ten  years  war; 
Who  taught  thee  arts,  Alcinous  to  perfuade, 
To  raife  his  wonder,  and  engage  his  aid  ? 
And  now  appear,  thy  treafures  to  protect, 
Conceal  thy  perfon,  thy  defigns  diredl, 
And  tell  what  more  thou  mull  from  fate  expe&  •     \ 
Domeftic  woes,  far  heavier  to  be  born, 
The  pride  of  fools,  and  flaves  infulting  fcorn. 
But  thou  be  filent,  nor  reveal  thy  ftate, 
Yield  to  the  force  of  unrelifted  fate, 

And 


1 


HOMER's    ODYSSES.  361 

And  bear  unmov'd  the  wrongs  of  bafe  mankind, 
The  laft  and  hardeft  concjueft  of  the  mind. 

Goddefs  of  wifdom  !  (Ithacus  replies)  ~) 

He  who  difcerns  thee  muft  be  truly  wife,  p 

So  feldom  view'd,  and  ever  in  difguife.  j 

When  the  bold  Argives  led  their  warring  pow'rs 
Againft  proud  Iliorfs  well-defended  tow'rs, 
Ulyjfes  was  thy  care,  celeftial  maid, 
Grac'd  with  thy  fight,  and  favour'd  with  thy  aid  : 
But  when  the  Trojan  piles  in  aflies  lay, 
And,  bound  for  Greece,  we  plow'd  the  watry  way; 
Our  fleet  difpers'd,  and  driv'n  from  coaft  to  coaft  ; 
Thy  facred  prefence  from  that  hour  I  loft  ; 
Till  I  beheld  thy  radiant  form  once  more, 
And  heard  thy  counfels  on  Fhceacicfs  fliore, 
But  by  th'  almighty  author  of  thy  race, 
Tell  me,  oh  tell,  is  this  my  native  place  ? 
For  much  I  fear,  long  tra&s  of  land  and  fea 
Divide  this  coaft  from  diftant  Ithaca. 

A  a  a  The 


iH  Part  of  the  XIIIth  BOOK  of 

The  fweet  delulion  kindly  you  impofe, 
To  footh  my  hopes  and  mitigate  my  woes. 

Thus  he :   The  blue-ey'd  Goddefs  thus  replies  : 
How  prone  to  doubt,  how  cautious  are  the  wife  ?. 
Who  vers'd  in  fortune,  fear  the  flatt'ring  fliow,, 
And  tafte  not  half  the  blifs  the  Gods  beftow. 
The  more  fhall  Pallas  aid  thy  juft  defires, 
And  guard  the  wilHom  which  her  feif  infpires. 
Others,  long  abfent  from  their  native  place,         Y 
Strait  feek  their  home,  and  fly  with  eager  pace,      ^ 
To  their  wives  arms,  and  childrens  dear  embrace,    j 
Not  thus  Ulyjfes ;   he  decrees  to  prove 
His  fubje&s  faith,  and  Queens  fufpe6led  love, 
Who  mourn'd  her  Lord  twice  ten  revolving  years> 
And  waftes  the  days  in  grief,  the  nights  in  tears. 
But  Pallas  knew  (thy  friends  and  navy  loft) 
Once  more  'twas  giv'n  thee  to  behold  thy  coaft : 
Yet  how  could  I  with  adverfe  fate  engage, 
And  mighty  Neptune's  unrelenting  rage  ? 

Now 


HOMER's     ODYSSES.  3*3 

Now  lift  thy  longing  eyes,  while  I  reftore 
The  pleafing  profpevll:  of  thy  native  fhore ! 
Behold  the  port  of  Phorcys,  fenc'd  around 
With  rocky  mountains,  and  with  olives  crown 'd  ! 
Behold  the  gloomy  Grot,  whofe  cool  recefs 
Delights  the  Nereids  of  the  neighb'ring  feas  • 
Whofe  now  neglected  altars  in  thy  reign 
Blufli'd  with  the  blood  of  fheep  and  oxen  ilain. 
Behold  where  Neritus  the  clouds  divides, 
And  fhakes  the  waving  forefts  on  his  fides! 

So  fpake  the  Goddefs,  and  the  profpe6i  clear'd, 
The  mifts  difpers'd,  and  all  the  coaft  appear'd  : 
The  King  with  joy  corifefs'd  his  place. of  birth, 
And,  on  his  knees,  falutes  his  mother  earth; 
Then,  with  his  fuppliant  hands  upheld  in  air, 
Thus  to  the  fea-green  fitters  fends  his  prayV. 

All  hail !  Ye  virgin  daughters  of  the  main  ; 
Ye  ftreams,  beyond  my  hopes  beheld  again  i 
To  you  once  more  your  own  Ulyjfes  bows, 
Attend  his  tranfports,  and  receive  his  vows. 

A  a  a  2  If 


3 6 4         Part  of  the  XIIIth  BOOK  of,   &c. 

If  Jove  prolong  my  days,  and  Pa/las  crown 
The  growing  virtues  of  my  youthful  fon, 
To  you  fhall  rites  divine  be  ever  paid, 
And  grateful  offerings  on  your  altars  laid. 


THE 


THE 


G  A 


ENS 


O   F 


A  LCI NO  US. 

From  the  Seventh  Book  of 

HOMER's   ODTSSES. 


Lofe  to  the  gates  a  fpacious  garden 
lies, 
From  ftorms  defended,  and  incle- 
ment skies : 
Four  acres  was  th' allotted  fpace  of  ground, 
^Fehc'd  with  a  green  enclofure  all  around. 


Tall  thriving  trees  confefs'd  the  fruitful  mold 


The  red'ning  apple  ripens  here  to  gold7 


Here. 


366  Part  of  the  VIIth  BOOK  of 

Here  the  blue  fig  with  lufcious  juice  o'erflows, 
With  deeper  red  the  full  pomegranate  glows. 
The  branch  here  bends  beneath  the  weighty  pear, 
And  verdant  olives  flourifli  round  the  year. 
The  balmy  fpirit  of  the  weftern  gale 
Eternal  breathes  on  fruits  untaught  to  fail : 
Each  dropping  pear  a  following  pear  fupplies, 
On  apples  apples,  figs  on  figs  arife: 
The  fame  mild  feafon  gives  the  blooms  to  blow, 
The  buds  to  harden,  and  the  fruits  to  grow. 
Here  order'd  vines  in  equal  ranks  appear 
With  all  th'  united  labours  of  the  year, 
Some  to  unload  the  fertile  branches  run, 
Some  dry  the  black'ning  clufters  in  the  fun, 
Others  to  tread  the  liquid  harveft  join, 
The  groaning  prefles  foam  with  floods  of  wine. 
Here  are  the  vines  in  early  flow'r  defcry'd,  1 

Here  grapes  difcolour'd  on  the  funny  fide,  ^ 

And  there  in  autumn's  richeft  purple  dy'd.  ) 


Beds 


HOMER's    ODTSSES. 

Beds  of  all  various  herbs,  for  ever  green, 
In  beauteous  order  terminate  the  fcene. 

Twoplenteousfountainsthewholeprofpe&crown'd;) 
This  thro'  the  gardens  leads  its  ftreams  around, 
Vifits  each  plant,  and  waters  all  the  ground: 
While  that  in  pipes  beneath  the  palace  flows, 
And  thence  its  current  on  the  town  beftows ; 
To  various  ufe  their  various  ftreams  they  bring, 
The  People  one,  and,  one  fupplies  the.  King, 


3£7 


MISCEL- 


W7G 


MISCELLANIE 


c 


O    N 


Several  Occafions. 


&yfi<x&ffiftg^&j^&x£^jfiHmtt'^^^ 


ODE    for    MUSICK 


O    N 

St.  C  EC  ILIAS  Day. 

i. 

Efcend  ye  nine !  defcend  and  fing ; 
The  breathing  inftrumentsinfpire, 
Wake  into  voice  each  filent  firing, 
And  fweep  the  founding  lyre ! 
In  a  fadly-pleafing  ftrain 
Let  the  warbling  lute  complain : 
Let  the  loud  trumpet  found, 
Till  the  roofs  all  around 
The  fhrill  echos  rebound  : 

B  b  b  2  While 


372  MISCELLANIE  S. 

While  in  more  lengthened  notes  and  flow, 
The  deep,  majeftic,  folemn  organs  blow. 
Hark !  the  numbers,  foft  and  clear, 
Gently  fteal  upon  the  ear ; 
Now  louder,  and  yet  louder  rife, 
And  fill  with  fpreadingf  founds  the  skies; 
Exulting  in  triumph  now  fwell  the  bold  notes, 
In  broken  air,  trembling,  the  wild  mufic  floats ; 
Till,  by  degrees,  remote  and  fmall, 
The  ftrains  decay, 
And   melt  away, 
In  a  dying,  dying  fall. 

It 

By  mufic,  minds  an  equal  temper  know, 
Nor  fwell  too  high,  nor  fink  too  low. 
If  in  the  bread  tumultuous  joys  arife, 
Mufic  her  foft,  affuafive  voice  applies; 
Or  when  the  foul  is  prefs'd  with  cares, 


Exalts  her  in  enlivening  airs. 


Warriors 


MISCELLANIES.  373 

Warriors  fhe  fires  with  animated  founds ; 
Pours  balm  into  the  bleeding  Lover's  wounds : 

Melancholy  lifts  her  head ; 

Morpheus  roW!zes  from  his  bed ; 

Sloath  unfolds  her  arms  and  wakes, 

Lift'ning  Envy  drops  her  fnakes ; 
Inteftine  war  no  more  our  Paflions  wage, 
Ev'n  giddy  Factions  hear  away  their  rage.. 

» 

III. 

But  when  our  Country's  caufe  provokes  to  arms, 
How  martial  mufic  ev'ry  bofom  warms ! 
So  when  the  firft  bold  veffel  dar'd  the  feas, 
High  on  the  ftern  the  Thracian  rais'd  his  ftrain, 

While  Argo  faw  her  kindred  trees 

Defcend  from  Velion  to  the  main. 

Tranfported  demi-gods  flood  round, 
And  men  grew  heroes  at  the  found, 

Enflam'd  with  glory's  charms: 

Each 


374  M  I  S  C  E  LLA  N  I  E  S. 

Each  chief  his  fev'nfold  ftiield  difplay'd, 
And  half  unfheath'd  the  fliining  blade ; 
And  feas,  and  rocks,  and  skies  rebound 
To  arms,  to  arms,  to  arms! 

IV. 

But  when  thro5  all  th'  infernal  bounds 
Which  flaming  Thlegeton  furrounds, 
Sad  Orpheus  fought  his  confort  loft ; 
Th' inexorable  gates  were  barrd, 
And  nought  was  feen,  and  nought  was  heard 
Around  the  dreary  coaft, 
But  dreadful  gleams, 
Difmal  fcreams, 
Fires  that  glow, 
Shrieks  of  woe, 
Sullen  moans, 
Hollow  groans, 
And  cries  of  tortur'd  ghofts. 


But 


M  I  S  C  E  LLA  N  IE  S.  375 

But  hark !  he  ftrikes  the  golden  lyre ; 
And  fee !  the  tortur'd  ghofts  refpire, 
See  fhady  forms  advance ! 
Thy  ftone,  O  Sy/iphw,  ftands  ftill ; 
Ixion  refts  upon  his  wheel, 

And  the  pale  fpedtres  dance ! 
The  furies  fink  upon  their  iron  beds, 
And  fnakes  uncurFd  hang  lift'ning  round  their  heads. 

V. 

By  the  ftreams  that  ever  flow, 
By  the  fragrant  winds  that  blow 

O'er  th'ElyJian  flow'rs, 
By  thofe  happy  fouls  who  dwell 
In  yellow  meads  of  Afphodel, 

Or  Amaranthine  bow'rs : 
By  the  hero's  armed  lhades 
Glitt'ring  thro'  the  gloomy  glades, 
By  the  youths  that  dy'd  for  love, 
Wandring  in  the  myrtle  grove, 

Reftore,. 


316  MISCELLANIES. 

Reftore,  reftore  Enrydice  to  life ; 
Oh  take  the  husband,  or  return  the  wife ! 
He  fung,  and  hell  confented 
To  hear  the  Poet's  pray'r ; 
Stern  Vrojerpine  relented, 
And  gave  him  back  the  fair. 
Thus  fong  could  prevail 
O'er  death  and  o'er  hell, 
A  conqueft  how  hard  and  how  glorious  ? 
Tho'  fate  had  faft  bound  her 
With  Styx  nine  times  round  her, 
Yet  mufic  and  love  were  victorious. 

VI. 

But  foon,  too  foon,  the  lover  turns  his  eyes : 

Again  fhe  falls,  again  ftie  dies,  lhe  dies! 

How  wilt  thou  now  the  fatal  fillers  move? 

No  crime  was  thine,  if  'tis  no  crime  to  love. 
Now  under  hanging  mountains, 
Beiide  the  falls  of  fountains, 


Or 


MISCELLANIES.  377 

Or  where  Hebrus  wanders, 
Rolling  in  Maunders, 
All  alone, 

Unheard,  unknown, 
He  makes  his  moan ; 
And  calls  her  ghoft, 
For  ever,  ever,  ever  loft ! 
Now  with  furies  furrounded, 
Defpairing,  confounded, 
He  trembles,  he  glows, 
Amidft  Rhodopeh  fnows : 
See,  wild  as  the  winds,  o'er  the  defart  he  flies; 
Hark !  Hamus  refounds  with  the  Bacchanals  cries — • 

— Ah  fee,  he  dies ! 
Yet  ev'n  in  death  Eurydice  he  fung, 
Eurydice  ftill  trembled  on  his  tongue, 
Eurydice  the  woods, 
Eurydice  the  floods, 
Eurydice  the  rocks,  and  hollow  mountains  rung. 

C  c  c  VII.  Mufic 


378  MISCELLANIES. 

VII. 

Mufic  the  fierceft  griefs  can  charm, 
And  fate's  fevereft  rage  difarm : 
Mufic  can  foften  pain  to  eafe, 
And  make  defpair  and  madnefs  pleafe : 
Our  joys  below  it  can  improve, 
And  antedate  the  blifs  above. 
This  the  divine  Cecilia  found, 
And  to  her  maker's  praife  confin'd  the  found 
When  the  full  organ  joins  the  tuneful  quire, 

Th'  immortal  pow'rs  incline  their  ear ; 
Born  on  the  fwelling  notes  our  fouls  afpire, 
While  folemn  airs  improve  the  facred  fire ; 

And  Angels  lean  from  heav'n  to  hear ! 
Of  Orpheus  now  no  more  let  Poets  tell, 
To  bright  Cecilia  greater  pow'r  is  giv'n  ; 
His  numbers  rais'd  a  lhade  from  hel^ 
Hers  lift  the  foul  to  heav'n. 


Two 


MISCELLANIES.  319 


Two  Chorus's  to  the  Tragedy  of 
Brutus,  not  yet  publick. 

Chorus  of  Athenians. 

Strophe  1. 

YE  fhades,  where  facred  truth  is  fought ; 
Groves,  where  immortal  Sages  taught; 
Where  heav'nly  vifions  Plato  fir'd, 
And  godlike  Zeno  lay  infpir'd  L 
In  vain  your  guiltlefs  laurels  flood, 
Unfpotted  long  with  human  blood. 
War,  horrid  war,   your  thoughtful  walks  invades, 
And  fteel  now  glitters  in  the  Mufes  fhades. 

Antijlrophe   1. 
Oh  heav'n-born  lifters !  fource  of  art ! 
Who  charm  the  fenfe,  or  mend  the  heart; 

C  c  c  2  Who 


38o  MIS  CELLJNIES. 

Who  lead  fair  Virtue's  train  along-, 
Moral  Truth,  and  myftic  Song ! 
To  what  new  clime,  what  diftant  sky, 
Forfaken,  friend  lefs,  fliall  ye  fly  ? 
Say,  will  ye  blefs  the  bleak  Atlantic  fhore, 
Or  bid  the  furious  Gaul  be  rude  no  more  ? 

Strophe  2. 
When  Athens  finks  by  fates  unjuft, 
When  wild  Barbarians  fpurn  her  duft ; 
Perhaps  ev'n  Britain's  utmoft  ihore 
Shall  ceafe  to  blufh  with  ftranger's  gore, 
See  arts  her  favage  fons  controul, 
An  Athens  rifing  near  the  pole ! 
Till  fome  new  Tyrant  lifts  his  purple  hand, 
And  civil  madnefs  tears  them  from  the  land. 

Antijlrophe  2. 
Ye  Gods!  what  juftice  rules  the  ball? 
Freedom  and  Arts  together  fall ; 
Fools  grant  whate'er  ambition  craves, 
And  men,  once  ignorant,  are  flaves.    . 


Oh 


MISCELLANIES. 

Oh  curs'd  effe&s  of  civil  hate, 

In  ev'ry  age,  in  ev'ry  ftate ! 
Still,  when  the  luft  of  tyrant  pow'r  fucceeds, 
Some  Athens  perilhes,  fome  Tully  bleeds. 


381 


Chorus 


382  MISCELLANIES. 


Chorus  of  Youths  and  Virgins. 

Semichorus. 

OH  tyrant  Love !    haft  thou  potted 
The  prudent,  learn'd,  and  virtuous  breaft  ? 
Wifdom  and  wit  in  vain  reclaim, 
And  arts  but  foften  us  to  feel  thy  flame. 
Love,  foft  intruder,  enters  here, 
But  entring  learns  to  be  fincere. 
Marcus  with  blufhes  owns  he  loves, 
And  Brutus  tenderly  reproves. 

Why,  virtue,  doft  thou  blame  defire, 

Which  nature  has  impreft? 
Why,  nature,  doft  thou  fooneft  fire 
The  mild  and  gen'rous  breaft? 

Chorus. 
Love's  purer  flames  the  Gods  approve; 
The  Gods,  and  Brutus  bend  to  love  : 

Brutus 


MISCELLANIES.  383 

Brutus  for  abfent  Portia  fighs, 
And  fterner  Cajjius  melts  at  Junta's  eyes. 
What  is  loofe  love  ?  a  tranfient  guft, 
Spent  in  a  fudden  ftorm  of  luft ; 
A  vapour  fed  from  \yild  defire, 
A  wandring,  felf-confuming  fire. 
But  Hymen's  flames  like  ftars  unite; 

And  burn  for  ever  one ; 
Chafte  as  cold  Cynthia's  virgin  light, 
Productive  as  the  Sun. 
Semichorusi 
Oh  fburce  of  ev'ry  focial  tye, 
United  with,  and  mutual  joy! 
What  various  joys  on  one  attend, 
As  fon,  as  father,  brother,  husband,  friend  ? 
Whether  his  hoary  fire  he  fpies, 
While  thoufand  grateful  thoughts  arife; 
Or  meets  his  fpoufe's  fonder  eye; 
Or  views  his  fmiling  progeny ; 

Whatr 


38+  MISCELLANIES. 

What  tender  pafllons  take  their  turns, 

What  home-felt  raptures  move  ? 
His  heart  now  melts,  now  leaps,  now  burns, 
With  rev'rence,  hope,  and  love. 

Chorus. 
Hence  guilty  joys,  diftaftes,  furmizes, 
Falfe  oaths,  falfe  tears,  deceits,  difguifes, 
Dangers,  doubts,  delays,  furprizes  ; 

Fires  that  fcorch,  yet  dare  not  fliine : 
Pureft  love's  unwafting  treafure, 
Conftant  faith,  fair  hope,  long  leifure, 
Days  of  eafe,  and  nights  of  pleafure ; 
Sacred  Hymen  I    thefe  are  thine. 


TO 


MISCELLANIES.  385 


VERSES 


To  the  Memory  of  an 


Unfortunate  LADY. 


WHat  beck'ning  ghoft,  along  the  moonlight  (hade 
Invites  my  fteps,  and  points  to  yonder  glade  ? 
5Tis  flie !  — but  why  that  bleeding  bofom  gor'd, 
Why  dimly  gleams  the  vifionary  fword  ? 
Oh  ever  beauteous,  ever  friendly !  tell, 
Is  it,  in  heav'n,  a  crime  to  love  too  well  ? 
To  bear  too  tender,  or  too  firm  a  heart, 
To  a6l  a  Lover's  or  a  Roman's  part  > 
Is  there  no  bright  reverfion  in  the  sky, 
For  thofe  who  greatly  think,  or  bravely  die  ? 

D  d  d  Why 


38S  MISCELLANIES. 

Why  bade  ye  elfe,  ye  Pow'rs !  her  foul  afpire 
Above  the  vulgar  flight  of  low  defire  ? 
Ambition  firft  fprung  from  your  bleft  abodes ; 
The  glorious  fault  of  Angels  and  of  Gods  : 
Thence  to  their  Images  on  earth  it  flows, 
And  in  the  breads  of  Kings  and  Heroes  glows ! 
Moft  fouls,  'tis  true,  but  peep  out  once  an  age, 
Dull  fullen  pris'ners  in  the  body's  cage : 
Dim  lights  of  life  that  burn  a  length  of  years, 
Ufelefs,  unfeen,  as  lamps  in  fepulchres ; 
Like  Eaftern  Kings  a  la^y  ftate  they  keep, 
And  clofe  confin'd  in  their  own  palace  fleep. 

From  thefe  perhaps  (e'er  nature  bade  her  die) 
Fate  fnatch'd  her  early  to  the  pitying  sky. 
As  into  air  the  purer  fpirits  flow, 
And  fep'rate  from  their  kindred  dregs  below; 
So  flew  the  foul  to  its  congenial  place, 
Nor  left  one  virtue  to  redeem  her  Race. 

But  thou,  falfe  guardian  of  a  charge  too  good, 
Thou,  mean  deferter  of  thy  brother's  blood ! 

See 


MISCELLANIES.  387 

See  on  thefe  ruby  lips  the  trembling  breath, 

Thefe  cheeks,  now  fading  at  the  blaft  of  death : 

Cold  is  that  bread  which  warm'd  the  world  before, 

And  thofe  love-darting  eyes  muft  roll  no  more. 

Thus,  if  eternal  juftice  rules  the  ball, 

Thus  lhall  your  wives,  and  thus  your  children  fall : 

On  all  the  line  a  fudden  vengeance  waits, 

And  frequent  herfes  fhall  befiege  your  gates. 

There  paffengers  lhall  ftand,  and  pointing  fay,  i 

(While  the  long  fun'rals  blacken  all  the  way) 

Lo  thefe  were  they,  whofe  fouls  the  Furies  fteel'd, 

And  curs 'd  with  hearts  unknowing  how  to  yield. 

Thus  unlamented  pafs  the  proud  away, 

The  gaze  of  fools,  and  pageant  of  a  day ! 

So  perilh  all,  whofe  breaft  ne'er  learn 'd  to  glow 

For  others  good,  or  melt  at  others  woe. 

What  can  atone  (oh  ever-injur'd  fhade  !) 
Thy  fate  unpity'd,  and  thy  rites  unpaid? 
No  friend's  complaint,  no  kind  dbmeftic  tear 
Pleas'd  thy  pale  ghoft;  or  grac'd  thy  mournful  bier; 

i  d  2  4     By 


T\ 


388  MISCELLANIES. 

By  foreign  hands  thy  dying  eyes  were  clos'd, 
By  foreign  hands  thy  decent  limbs  compos'd, 
By  foreign  hands  thy  humble  grave  adorn'd, 
By  ftrangers  honoured,  and  by  ftrangers  mourn'd ! 
What  tho'  no  friends  in  fable  weeds  appear, 
Grieve  for  an  hour,  perhaps,  then  mourn  a  year, 
And  bear  about  the  mockery  of  woe 
To  midnight  dances,  and  the  publick  lhow  ? 
What  tho'  no  weeping  Loves  thy  allies  grace, 
Nor  polifh'd  marble  emulate  thy  face  ? 
What  tho'  no  facred  earth  allow  thee  room, 
Nor  hallow'd  dirge  be  mutter'd  o'er  thy  tomb  ? 
Yet  fhall  thy  grave  with  riling  flow'rs  be  dreft, 
And  the  green  turf  lie  lightly  on  thy  breaft : 
There  fhall  the  morn  her  earlieft  tears  bellow, 
There  the  firft  rofes  of  the  year  fhall  blow ; 
While  Angels  with  their  filver  wings  o'erfliade 
The  ground,  now  facred  by  thy  reliques  made. 
So  peaceful  refts,  without  a  ft  one,  a  name, 
What  once  had  beauty,  titles,  wealth,  and  fame. 

3  How 


MIS  C  E  LLA  N I E  S 

How  lov'd,  how  honour 'd  once,  avails  thee  not, 

To  whom  related,  or  by  whom  begot ; 

A  heap  of  dull  alone  remains  of  thee ; 

'Tis  all  thou  art,  and  all  the  proud  fliall  be ! 

Poets  themfelves  muft  fall,  like  thofe  they  fung; 
Deaf  the  prais'd  ear,  and  mute  the  tuneful  tongue, 
Ev'n  he,  whofe  foul  now  melts  in  mournful  lays, 
Shall  fliortly  want  the  gen'rous  tear  he  pays ; 
Then  from  his  clofing  eyes  thy  form  fliall  part, 
And  the  laft  pang  fliall  tear  thee  from  his  heart, 
Life's  idle  bufinefs  at  one  gafp  be  o'er, 
The  Mufe  forgot,  and  thou  belov'd  no  more ! 


389 


To 


35>o 


MIS  CE  LLANIE  S. 


To  Mr.  J  E  KVA  S, 


WITH 


FRESNOVs  Art   of  Painting, 


■Tr  anjiated  by  Mr.  Dry  den. 


:.r 


r  f  i  •   i 


\:: 


r 


His  verfe  be  thine,  my  friend,  nor  thou  refufe 
:This,  from  no  venal  or  ungrateful  Mufe. 
Whether  thy  hand  ftrike  out  fome  free  defign, 
Where  life  awakes,  and  dawns  at  ev  ry  line ; 
Or  blend  in  beauteous  tints  the  colour'd  mafs, 
And  from  the  canvas  call  the  mimic  face  : 
Read  thefe  inftrucHve  leaves,  in  which  confpire 
Frefnofs  clofe  art,  and  Dryden's  native  fire : 
And  reading  wifli,  like  theirs,  our  fate  and  fame, 
So  mix'd  our  ftudies,  and  fo  join'd  our  name, 

Like 


MISCELLANIES.  391 

Like  them  to  Ihine  thro'  long  fucceeding  age, 
So  juft  thy  skill,  fo  regular  my  rage. 

Smit  with  the  love  of  Sifter-arts  we  came, 
And  met  congenial,  mingling  flame  with  flame ; 
Like  friendly  colours  found  our  arts  unite, 
And  each  from  each  contrail  new  ftrength  and  light. 
How  oft'  in  pleafing  tasks  we  wear  the  day, 
While  fummer  funs  roll  unperceiv'd  away  ? 
How  oft'  our  flowly-growing  works  impart, 
While  images  reflect  from  art  to  art  ? 
How  oft'  review ;  each  finding  like  a  friend 
Something  to  blame,  and  fomething  to  commend  ? 
What  flatt'ring  fcenes  our  wand'ring  fancy  wrought, 
Rome's  pompous  glories  rifing  to  our  thought ! 
Together  o'er  the  Alps  methinks  we  fly, 
Fir'd  with  ideas  of  fair  Italy. 
With  thee,  on  Raphael's  Monument  I  mourn, 
Or  wait  infpiring  dreams  at  Maro's  Urn : 
With  thee  repofe,  where  Tutty  once  was  laid, 
Or  feek  fome  ruin's  formidable  fhade; 

While 


392  MISCELLANIES. 

While  fancy  brings  the  vanifh'd  piles  to  view, 
And  builds  imaginary  Rome  a-new. 
Here  thy  well-ftudy'd  Marbles  fix  our  eye ; 
A  fading  Frefco  here  demands  a  figh : 
Each  heav'nly  piece  unweary'd  we  compare, 
Match  Raphael's  grace,  with  thy  lov'd  Guido's  ziTy 
Caracci's  ftrength,  Correggio's  fofter  line, 
Paulo's  free  ftroke,  and  Titian's  warmth  divine. 

How  finifh'd  with  illuftrious  toil  appears 
This  fmall,  well-polifh'd  gem,  the  *  work  of  years ! 
Yet  ftill  how  faint  by  precept  is  expreft 
The  living  image  in  the  Painter's  breaft  ? 
Thence  endlefs  ftreams  of  fair  ideas  flow, 
Strike  in  the  sketch,  or  in  the  picture  glow; 
Thence  beauty,  waking  all  her  forms,  fupplies 
An  Angel's  fweetnefs,  or  Bridgwater's  eyes. 

Mufe !  at  that  name  thy  facred  forrows  fhed, 
Thofe  tears  eternal,  that  embalm  the  dead; 

*  Frefnoy  employed  abovj  twenty  years  in  finijhing  this  Poem. 

Call 


MISCELLANIES.  393 

Call  round  her  tomb  each  objedl  of  defire, 
Each  purer  frame  inform'd  with  purer  fire : 
Bid  her  be  all  that  chears  or  foftens  life, 
The  tender  filler,  daughter,  friend  and  wife  ; 
Bid  her  be  all  that  makes  mankind  adore ; 
Then  view  this  marble,  and  be  vain  no  more ! 

Yet  ftill  her  charms  in  breathing  paint  engage ; 
Her  modeft  cheek  fhall  warm  a  future  age. 
Beauty,  frail  flow'r  that  ev'ry  feafon  fears, 
Blooms  in  thy  colours  for  a  thoufand  years. 
Thus  Churchill's  race  fhall  other  hearts  furprize, 
And  other  Beauties  envy  Worthy  s  eyes, 
Each  pleafing  Blount  fhall  endlefs  fmiles  bellow, 
And  foft  Belinda's  blulli  for  ever  glow. 

Oh  lafting  as  thofe  colours  may  they  fhine, 
Free  as  thy  ftroke,  yet  faultlefs  as  thy  line! 
New  graces  yearly,  like  thy  works,  difplay; 
Soft  without  weaknefs,  without  glaring  gay; 
Led  by  fome  rule,  that  guides,  but  not  conftrains ; 
And  finilh'd  more  thro'  happinefs  than  pains ! 

E  e  e  The 


394 


MISCELLANIES. 

The  kindred  arts  fhall  in  their  praife  confpire, 
One  dip  the  pencil,  and  one  firing  the  lyre. 
Yet  lhould  the  Graces  all  thy  figures  place, 
And  breath  an  air  divine  on  ev'ry  face ; 
Yet  fliould  the  Mufes  bid  my  numbers  roll, 
Strong  as  their  charms,  and  gentle  as  their  foul ; 
With  Zeuxis'  Helen  thy  Bridgwater  vie, 
And  thefe  be  fung  till  Granville^  Myra  die ; 
Alas !  how  little  from  the  grave  we  claim  ? 
Thou  but  preferv'ft  a  Form,  and  I  a  Name. 


To 


MISCELLANIES.  395 


To  a  Young  LADY, 

WITH    THE 

WORKS   of  VOITURE 

IN  thefe  gay  thoughts  the  Loves  and  Graces  ftiine, 
And  all  the  writer  lives  in  ev'ry  line ; 
His  eafy  art  may  happy  nature  feem, 
Trifles  themfelves  are  elegant  in  him. 
Sure  to  charm  all  was  his  peculiar  fate, 
Who  without  flatt'ry  pleas'd  the  fair,  and  great ; 
Still  with  efteem  no  lefs  conversed  than  read ; 
With  wit  well-natur'd,  and  with  books  well-bred ; 
His  heart,  his  miftrefs  and  his  friend  did  fliare ; 
His  time,  the  Mufe,  the  witty,  and  the  fair. 

E  g  e  2  Thus 


396  MISCELLANIES. 

Thus  wifely  carelefs,  innocently  gay, 
Chearful,  he  play'd  the  trifle,  life,  away, 
Till  death  fcarce  felt  his  gentle  breath  fuppreft, 
As  fmiling  infants  fport  themfelves  to  reft : 
Ev'n  rival  wits  did  Voiture's  fate  deplore, 
And  the  gay  mourn 'd  who  never  mourn'd  before ; 
The  trueft  hearts  for  Voitwe  heav'd  with  fighs, 
Voiture  was  wept  by  all  the  brighteft  eyes ; 
The  Smiles  and  Loves  had  dy'd  in  Voiture 's  death, 
But  that  for  ever  in  his  lines  they  breath. 
Let  the  ftrid:  life  of  graver  mortals  be 
A  long,  exait,  and  ferious  comedy, 
In  ev'ry  fcene  fome  moral  let  it  teach, 
And,  if  it  can,  at  once  both  pleafe  and  preach : 
Let  mine,  like  Voiture 's;  a  gay  farce  appear, 
And  more  diverting  ftill  than  regular, 
Have  humour,  wit,  a  native  eafe  and  grace ; 
No  matter  for  the  rules  of  time  and  place. 
Criticks  in  wit,  or  life,  are  hard  to  pleafe, 
Few  write  to  fehofe,  and  none  can  live  to  thefe. 

Too 


MISCELLANIES.  391 

Too  much  your  Sex  is  by  their  forms  confin'd, 
Severe  to  all,  but  mod  to  womankind  ; 
Cuftom,  grown  blind  with  age,  muft  be  your  guide; 
Your  pleafure  is  a  vice,  but  not  your  pride ; 
By  nature  yielding,  ftubborn  but  for  fame ; 
Made  flaves  by  honour,  and  made  fools  by  iliame. 
Marriage  may  all  thofe  petty  tyrants  chafe, 
But  fets  up  one,  a  greater,  in  their  place ; 
Well  might  you  wifli  for  change,  by  thofe  accurft, 
But  the  laft  tyrant  ever  proves  the  worft. 
Still  in  conftraint  your  fuff'ring  fex  remains, 

Or  bound  in  formal,  or  in  real  chains ; 
Whole  years  negle&ed  for  fome  months  ador'd, 
The  fawning  fervant  turns  a  haughty  Lord ; 
Ah  quit  not  the  free  innocence  of  life, 
For  the  dull  glory  of  a  virtuous  wife ! 
Nor  let  falfe  fliows,  or  empty  titles  pleafe ; 
Aim  not  at  joy,  but  reft  content  with  eafe. 

The  Gods,  to  curfe  Pamela  with  her  pray'rs, 
Gave  the  gilt  coach  and  dappled  Flanders  mares, 

The 


3?8  M  I  S  C  E  LLA  N  I  E  S. 

The  Aiming  robes,  rich  jewels,  beds  of  ftate, 
And,  to  compleat  her  blifs,  a  fool  for  mate. 
She  glares  in  balls,  front-boxes,  and  the  ring, 
A  vain,  unquiet,  glitt'ring,  wretched  thing! 
Pride,  pomp,  and  ftate  but  reach  her  outward  part, 
She  fighs,  and  is  no  Dutchefs  at  her  heart. 

But,  Madam,  if  the  fates  withftand,  and  you 
Are  deftin'd  Hymen's  willing  vi6tim  too, 
Truft  not  too  much  your  now  refiftlefs  charms, 
Thofe,  age  or  ficknefs,  foon  or  late,  difarms ; 
Good  humour  only  teaches  charms  to  laft, 
Still  makes  new  conquefts,  and  maintains  the  part: 
Love,  rais'd  on  beauty,  will  like  that  decay, 
Our  hearts  may  bear  its  flender  chain  a  day, 
As  flow'ry  bands  in  wantonnefs  are  worn ; 
A  morning's  pleafure,  and  at  evening  torn : 
This  binds  in  ties  more  eafy,  yet  more  ftrong, 
The  willing  heart,  and  only  holds  it  long. 

Thus  *  Voitures  early  care  ftill  Aione  the  fame, 
And  Monthaufier  was  only  chang'd  in  name ; 

By 

*  Madamolfelle  Paulct.  3 


MISCELLANIES. 

By  this,  ev'n  now  they  live,  ev'n  now  they  charm, 
Their  wit  ftili  fparkling,  and  their  flames  ftill  warm. 
Now  crown'd  with  myrtle,  on  t\i  Elyjian  coaft, 
Amidft  thofe  lovers,  joys  his  gentle  ghoft : 
Pleas'd,  while  with  fmiles  his  happy  lines  you  view, 
And  finds  a  fairer  Rambouillet  in  you. 
The  brighteft  eyes  of  France  infpir'd  his  Mufe, 
The  brighteft  eyes  of  Britain  now  perufe, 
And  dead  as  living,  'tis  our  author's  pride, 
Still  to  charm  thofe  who  charm  the  world  befide. 


399 


To 


400 


MISCELLANIES. 


» 


To  the  fame, 

On  her  leaving  the  Town  after  the 

Coronation. 


AS  fome  fond  virgin,  whom  her  mother's  care 
Drags  from  the  town  to  wholfom  country  air, 
Juft  when  fhe  learns  to  roll  a  melting  eye, 
And  hear  a  fpark,  yet  think  no  danger  nigh ; 
From  the  dear  man  unwilling  flie  muft  fever, 
Yet  takes  one  kifs  before  fhe  parts  for  ever. 
Thus- from  the  world  fair  Zephalinda  flew, 
Saw  others  happy,  and  with  fighs  withdrew; 
Not  that  their  pleafures  caus'd  her  difcontent, 
She  figh'd  not  that  They  ftay'd,  but  that  She  went. 

She  went,  to  plain-work  and  to  purling  brooks, 
Old-faihion'd  halls,  dull  aunts,  and  croaking  rooks, 

She 


MISCELLANIES.  +oi 

She  went  from  Op'ra,  park,  aflembly,  play, 

To  morning  walks,  and  pray'rs  three  hours  a  day ; 

To  part  her  time  'twixt  reading  and  Bohea, 

To  mufe,  and  fpill  her  folitary  Tea, 

Or  o'er  cold  coffee  trifle  with  the  fpoon, 

Count  the  flow  clock,  and  dine  exadt  at  noon ; 

Divert  her  eyes  with  pictures  in  the*  fire, 

Hum  half  a  tune,   tell  ftories  to  the  fquire ; 

Up  to  her  godly  garret  after  fev'n, 

There  flarve  and  pray,  for  that's  the  way  to  heav'n. 

Some  Squire,  perhaps,  you  take  delight  to  rack ; 
Whofe  game  is  Whisk,  whofe  treat  a  toaft  in  fack, 
Who  vifits  with  a  gun,  prefents  you  birds, 
Then  gives  a  fmacking  bufs,  and  cries — No  words ! 
Or  with  his  hound  comes  hollowing  from  the  ftable, 
Makes  love  with  nods,  and  knees  beneath  a  table ; 
Whofe  laughs  are  hearty,  tho'  his  jefts  are  coarfe, 
And  loves  you  bell:  of  all  things — but  his  horfe. 

In  fome  fair  evening,  on  your  elbow  laid, 
You  dream  of  triumphs  in  the  rural  lhade ; 

Fff  In 


4o2  MISCELLANIE  & 

In  penfive  thought  recall  the  fancy'd  fcene, 
See  Coronations  rife  on  ev'ry  green, 
Before  you  pafs  th'  imaginary  lights 
Of  Lords,  and  Earls,  and  Dukes,  and  garter 'd  Knights ; 
While  the  fpread  Fan  o'erfhades  your  doling  eyes; 
Then  give  one  flirt,  and  all  the  vifion  flies. 
Thus  vanifti  fc'eptres,  coronets,  and  balls, 
And  -leave  you  in  lone  woods,  or  empty  walls. 
So  when  your  flave,  at  fome  dear,  idle  time, 
(Not  plaguM  with  headachs,  or  the  want  of  rhime) 
Stands  in  the  ftreets,  abftra6led  from  the  crew, 
And  while  he  feems  to  ftudy,  thinks  of  you  : 
Juft  when  his  fancy  points  your  fprightly  eyes> 
Or  fees  the  blufli  of  Parthenijfa  rife, 
G—y  pats  my  flioulder,  and  you  vanilh  quite ; 
Streets,  chairs,  and  coxcombs,  rulh  upon  my  fight; 
Vext  to  be  ftill  in  town,  I  knit  my  brow, 
Look  fow'r,  and  hum  a  fong — as  you  may  now. 


On 


MISCELLANIES.  403 


k 


On  a  FA  N  of  the  Authors  defgn,  in  which 
was  fainted  the  fiory  ^Cephalus  and 
Procris,  with  the  Motto,  Aura  veni. 

C\Ome,  gentle  Air !  th'Alolian  fliepherd  faid, 
t  While  Procris  panted  in  the  fecret  fliade ; 
Come,  gentle  Air,  the  fairer  Delia  cries, 
While  at  her  feet  her  fwain  expiring  lies. 
Lo  the  glad  gales  o'er  all  her  beauties  ftray, 
Breathe  on  her  lips,  and  in  her  bofom  play ! 
In  Delia's  hand  this  toy  is  fatal  found, 
Nor  could  that  fabled  dart  more  furely  wound : 
Both  gifts  deftrudive  to  the  givers  prove ; 
Alike  both  lovers  fall  by  thofe  they  love. 
Yet  guiltlefs  too  this  bright  deftroyer  lives, 
At  random  wounds,  nor  knows  the  wound  (lie  gives: 
She  views  the  ftory  with  attentive  eyes, 
And  pities  Vrocris,  while  her  lover  dies. 

Fffft  On 


4°4- 


MISCELLANIES. 


On  SILENCE,  in  imitation  of  the  jiyle 
of  the  late  E.  of  R. 


I. 

Silence !  cooeval  with  Eternity ; 
Thou  wert,  e'er  nature  firfl:  began  to  be, 
'Twas  one  vaft  nothing,  all,  and  all  flept  faft  in  thee. 

H. 
Thine  was  the  fway ,  e'er  heav'n  was  form'd  or  earth, 
E'er  fruitful  Thought  conceiv'd  creation's  birth, 
Or  midwife  Word  gave  aid,  and  fpoke  the  infant  forth. 

III. 
Then  various  elements  againft  thee  join'd, 
In  one  more  various  animal  combin'd, 
And  fram'd  the  clam'rous  race  of  bufy  human-kind. 

IV. 


MISCELLANIES.  405 

IV. 

The  tongue  mov'd  gently  firft,  and  fpeech  was  low, 
Till  wrangling  Science  taught  it  notfe  and  Aiow, 
And  wicked  Wit  arofe,  thy  moft  abufive  foe. 

V. 
But  rebel  Wit  deferts  thee  oft5  in  vain ; 
Loft  in  the  ma£e  of  words,  he  turns  again, 
And  feeks  a  furer  ftate,  and  courts  thy  gentler  reign;. 

VI. 
Affli6ted  fenfe  thou  kindly  doft  fet  free, 
Opprefs'd  with  argumental  tyranny, 
And.  routed  reafon  finds  a  fafe  retreat  in  thee, 

VII. 
With  thee  in  private  modeft  dulnefs  lies, 
And  in  thy  bofom  lurks  in  thought's  difguife  ; 
Thou  varniflier  of  fools,  and  cheat  of  all  the  wife  ! 

VIII. 
Yet  thy  indulgence  is  by  both  confeft ; 
Folly  by  thee  lies  fleeping  in  the  breaft, 
And  'tis  in  thee  at  laft  that  wifdom  feeks  for  reft. 

IX 


4o6  MISCELLANIES. 

IX. 

Silence,  the  knave's  repute,  the  whore's  good  name, 
The  only  honour  of  the  wifliing  dame  ; 

Thy  very  want  of  tongue  makes  thee  a  kind  of  Fame. 

X. 
But  cou'dft  thou  feize  fome  tongues  that  now  are  free, 
How  Church  and  State  wou'd  be  oblig'd  to  thee  ? 

At  Senate,  and  at  Bar,  how  welcome  wou'dft  thou  be  ? 

XL 
Yet  fpeech,  ev'n  there,  fubmiffively  withdraws 
From  rights  of  fubje6ts,  and  the  poor  man's  caufe; 

Then  pompous  filence  reigns,  and  ftills  the  noify  laws. 

XII. 

Paft  fervices  of  friends,  good  deeds  of  foes, 
WhatFav'rites  gain,  and  what  th' Exchequer  owes, 
Fly  the  forgetful  world,  and  in  thy  arms  repofe. 

XIII. 

The  country  wit,  religion  of  the  town, 
The  courtier's  learning,  policy  o'th'gown, 
Are  beft  by  thee  exprefs'd,  and  fliine  in  thee  alone. 

XIV. 


MIS  CELLANIES.  407 

XIV. 

The  Parfon's  cant,  the  Lawyer's  fophiftry, 
Lord's  quibble,  Critic's  jeffc ;   all  end  in  thee, 
AH  reft  in  peace  at  laft,  and  fleep  eternally. 

EPITAPH. 

Apleafing  form,  a  firm,  yet  cautious  mind, 
Sincere,  tho'  prudent,  conftant,  yet  refign'd ;, 
Honour  unchanged,  a  principle  profeft, 
Fix'd  to  one  fide,  but  mod'rate  to  the  reft ; 
An  honeft  Courtier,  and  a  Patriot  too, 
Juft  to  his  .Prince,  and  to  his  Country  true  ; 
FilFd  with  the  fenfe  of  age,  the  fire  of  youth  ;. 
A  fcorn  of  wrangling,  yet  a  zeal  for  truth ; 
A  gen'rous  faith,  from  fuperftition  free, 
A  love  to  peace,  and  hate  of  tyranny ; 
Such  this  man  was;  who  now,  from  earth  remov'd^ 
At  length  enjoys  that  liberty  he  lov'd. 

PROLOGUE. 


40  8 


MISCELLANIES. 


PROLOGUE 


T  O 


Mr.   AD  DI SONs    Tras*ed>< 


O  F 


Jl 


A    T     O. 


TO  wake  the  foul  by  tender  ftrokes  of  art, 
To  raife  the  genius,  and  to  mend  the  heart; 
To  make  mankind,  in  confcious  virtue  bold, 
Live  o'er  each  fcene,  and  be  what  they  behold : 
For  this  the  Tragic  Mufe  firft  trod  the  ftage, 
Commanding  tears  to  ftream  thro'  ev'ry  age  ; 
Tyrants  no  more  their  favage  nature  kept, 
And  foes  to  virtue  wonder'd  how  they  wept. 
Our  author  fhuns  by  vulgar  fprings  to  move, 
The  hero's  glory,  or  the  virgin's  love ; 

In 


MISCELLANIES.  40? 

In  pitying  love  we  but  our  weaknefs  fhow, 
And  wild  ambition  well  deferves  its  woe. 
Here  tears  fhall  flow  from  a  more  gen'rous  caufe, 
Such  tears,  as  Patriots  fhed  for  dying  Laws : 
He  bids  your  breafts  with  ancient  ardour  rife, 
And  calls  forth  Roman  drops  from  Britijh  eyes. 
Virtue  confefs'd  in  human  ftiape  he  draws, 
What  Plato  thought,  and  godlike  Cato  was : 
No  common  obje6t  to  your  fight  difplays, 
But  what  with  pleafure  heav'n  itfelf  furveys ; 
A  brave  man  ftruggling  in  the  ftorms  of  fate. 
And  greatly  falling  with  a  falling  ftate ! 
While  Cato  gives  his  little  fenate  laws, 
What  bofom  beats  not  in  his  Country's  caufe  ? 
Who  fees  him  a6t,  but  envies  ev'ry  deed  ? 
Who  hears  him  groan,  and  does  not  wifh  to  bleed  ? 
Ev'n  when  proud  Cafar  'midft  triumphal  cars, 
The  fpoils  of  nations,  and  the  pomp  of  wars, 
Ignobly  vain  and  impotently  great, 
Show'd  Rome  her  Cato's  figure  drawn  in  ftate ;   • 

G  gg  As 


+  io  MI  S  C  E  LLA  N  I  E  & 

As  her  dead  Father's  rev'rend  image  paft,. 
The  pomp  was  darken'd,  and  the  day  o'ercaft, 
The  triumph  teas'd- — Tears  gulhM  from  ev'ry  eye; 
The  World's  great  Victor  pafs'd  unheeded  by  ; 
Her  laft  good  man  deje&ed  Rome  ador'd, 
And  honour'd  Ccefafs  lefs  than  Cato's  fword. 

Britains  attend  :   Be  worth  like  this  approved, 
And  fhow,  you  have  the  virtue  to  be  mov'd. 
With  honeft  fcorn  the  firft  fam'd  Cato  view'd 
Rome  learning  arts  from  Greece,  whom  fhe  fubdu'd ; 
Our  fcene  precarioufly  fubfifts  too  long 
On  French  tranflation,  and  Italian  long. 
Dare  to  have  fenfe  your  felves;  aflert  the  ftage, 
Be  juftly  warm'd  with  your  own  native  rage. 
Such  Plays  alone  fhould  pleafe  a  Britifh  ear, 
As  Cato's  felf  had  not  difdain'd  to  hear. 


EPILOGUE 


MISCELLANIES. 


411 


EPILOGUE 


T  o 


JANE    SHORE. 

Defignd  for  Mrs.  Old  field. 

PRodigious  this  !  the  Frail  one  of  our  Play 
From  her  own  fex  fhould  mercy  find  to  day ! 
You  might  have  held  the  pretty  head  afide, 
Peep'd  in  your  fans,  been  ferious,  thus,  and  cry'd, 
The  Play  may  pafs — but  that  ftrange  creature,  Shore, 
I  can't — indeed  now — I  fo  hate  a  whqre — 
Juft  as  a  blockhead  rubs  his  thoughtlefs  skull, 
And  thanks  his  ftars  he  was  not  born  a  fool ; 
So  from  a  lifter  linner  you  fliall  hear, 
"  How  ftrangely  you  expofe  your  felf,  my  dear  ? 


GO"    or      r> 


b  b 


But 


+i2  MISCELLANIES. 

But  let  me  die,  all  raillery  apart, 
Our  fex  are  ftill  forgiving  at  their  heart ; 
And  did  not  wicked  cuftom  fo  contrive, 
We'd  be  the  beft,  good-natur'd  things  alive. 

There  are,  'tis  true,  who  tell  another  tale, 
That  virtuous  ladies  envy  while  they  rail ; 
Such  rage  without  betrays  the  fire  within  • 
In  fome  clofe  corner  of  the  foul,  they  fin  : 
Still  hoarding  up,  moft  fcandaloufly  nice, 
Amidft  their  virtues,  a  referve  of  vice. 
The  godly  dame  who  fleflily  failings  damns, 
Scolds  with  her  maid,  or  with  her  chaplain  crams, 
Wou'd  you  enjoy  foft  nights  and  folid  dinners? 
Faith,  gallants,  board  with  faints,  and  bed  with  finners. 

Well,  if  our  author  in  the  Wife  offends, 
He  has  a  Husband  that  will  make  amends. 
He  draws  him  gentle,  tender,  and  forgiving, 
And  fure  fuch  kind  good  creatures  may  be  living. 
In  days  of  old  they  pardon'd  breach  of  vows, 
Stern  Cato's  felf  was  no  relentlefs  fpoufe : 

P/a— - 


MISCELLANIES:  413 

Plu — Plutarch,  what's  his  name  that  writes  his  life  ? 
Tells  us,  that  Cato  dearly  lov'd  his  wife  : 
Yet  if  a  friend  a  night,  or  fo,  lhould  need  her, 
He'd  recommend  her,  as  a  fpecial  breeder. 
To  lend  a  wife,  few  here  would  fcruple  make, 
But  pray  which  of  you  all  would  take  her  back  ? 
Tho'  with  the  Stoick  chief  our  ftage  may  ring, 
The  Stoick  husband  was  the  glorious  thing. 
The  man  had  courage,  was  a  fage,  'tis  true, 
And  lov'd  his  country — but  what's  that  to  you  ? 
Thofe  ftrange  examples  ne'er  were  made  to  fit  ye? 
But  the  kind  cuckold  might  inftrud:  the  City : 
There,  many  an  honeft  man  may  copy  Cato, 
Who  ne'er  faw  naked  Sword,  or  look'd  in  Plato*. 

If,  after  all,  you  think  it  a  difgrace, 
That  Edward's  Mifs  thus  perks  it  in  your  face, 
To  fee  a  piece  of  failing  flefli  and  blood, 
In  all  the  reft  fo  impudently  good ; 
Faith,  let  the  modeft  matrons  of  the  town, 
Come  here  in  crowds,  and  ftare  the  ftrumpet  down. 

Occajion'd 


4i+  MISCELLANIES. 


Occafwrid  by  feme  Verses  of  his  Grace 
the  Duke  ^/Buckingham. 

MUSE,  'tis  enough :  at  length  thy  labour  ends, 
And  thou  fhalt  live;  for  Buckingham  commends. 
Let  crowds  of  criticks  now  my  verfe  afTail, 
Let  2)- — s  write,  and  namelefs  numbers  rail : 
This  more  than  pays  whole  years  of  thanklefs  pain ; 
Time,  health,  and  fortune,  are  not  loft  in  vain. 
Sheffield  approves,  confenting  Plwltis  bends, 
And  I  and  Malice  from  this  hour  are  friends. 


E  LOIS  J 


ELOISA 


T  O 


A  B  E  L  A  R  D. 


oSosoeeoeoo6ooeeoeeoe6©c©oeGopbo©Soe©oo©09 


The  ARGUMENT. 


ABelard  and  Eloifa  flouriftid  in  the  twelfth  Century  -,  they 
were  two  of  the  mojl  dijlinguifh'd  perfons  of  their  age  in 
learning  and  beauty ,  but  for  nothing  more  famous  than 
for  their  unfortunate  pajjion.  After  a  long  courfe  of  Calamities, 
they  retired  each  to  a  feveral  Convent,  and  confecrated  the  re- 
mainder .  of  their  days  to  religion.  It  was  many  years  after  this 
feparation,  that  a  letter  of  AbelarcTj  to  a  Friend  which  contained 
the  hiftory  of  his  misfortunes,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Eloifa.  This 
awakening  all  her  tendernefs,  occajion'd  thofe  celebrated  letters 
(out  of  which  the  following  is  partly  extracted)  which  give 
fo  lively  a  pi&ure  of  the  jlruggles  of  grace  and  nature,  virtue 
and  pajfion. 


ELOISA 


p^f^fffiftl  pS^^|fiSSB  S^fi^9&|  t^tSi 


E  L  O  I  S  A 


T   O 


ABELARD. 


IN  thefe  deep  Folitudes  and  awful  cells, 
Where  heav'nly-penfive,  contemplation  dwells, 
And  ever-mufing  melancholy  reigns; 
What  means  this  tumult  in  a  VeftaFs  veins  ? 
Why  rove  my  thoughts  beyond  this  laft  retreat  ? 
Why  feels  my  heart  its  long-forgotten  heat  ? 
Yet,  yet  I  love !  — From  Abelard  it  came, 
And  Eloifa  yet  mud  kifs  the  name. 

Dear  fatal  name !  reft  ever  unreveal'd, 
Nor  pafs  thefe  lips  in  holy  filence  feal'd. 

H  h  h  Hide 


4iB  MISCELLANIES. 

Hide  it,  my  heart,  within  that  clofe  difguife, 

Where,  mix'd  with  God's,  his  lov'd  Idea  lies. 

Oh  write  it  not,  my  hand — The  name  appears 

Already  written — wafh  it  out,  my  tears ! 

In  vain  loft  Eloifa  weeps  and  prays, 

Her  heart  ftill  dictates,  and  her  hand  obeys. 

Relentlefs  walls  1  whofe  darkfom  round  contains- 
Repentant  fighs,  and  voluntary  pains : 
Ye  rugged  rocks!  which  holy  knees  have  worn; 
Ye  grots  and  caverns  fhagg'd  with  horrid  thorn! 
Shrines!  where  their  vigils  pale-ey'd  virgins  keep. 
And  pitying  faints,  whofe  ftatues  learn  to  weep  ! 
Tho'  cold  like  you,  unmov'd,  and  filent  grown, 
I  have  not  yet  forgot  my  felf  to  ftone. 
Heav'n  claims  me  all  in  vain,  while  he  has  part; 
Still  rebel  nature  holds  out  half  my  heart ; 
Nor  pray'rs  nor  fafts  its  ftubborn  pulfe  reftrai% 
Nor  tears,  for  ages,  taught  to  flow  in  vain. 

Soon  as  thy  letters  trembling  I  unclofe, 
That  well-known  name  awakens  all  my  woes. 


MISCELLANIES.  41? 

Oh  name  for  ever  fad  !  for  ever  dear  ! 

Still  breath'd  in  fighs,  ftill  ulher'd  with  a  tear, 

I  tremble  too  where-e'er  my  own  I  find, 

Some  dire  misfortune  follows  clofe  behind. 

Line  after  line  my  gufhing  eyes  o'erflow, 

Led  thro'  a  fad  variety  of  woe: 

Now  warm  in  love,  now  with'ring  in  thy  bloom, 

Loft  in  a  convent's  folitary  gloom ! 

There  ftern  religion  quench'd  th'  unwilling  flame, 

There  dy'd  the  beft  of  paflions,  Love  and  Fame. 

Yet  write,  oh  write  me  all,  that  I  may  join 
Griefs  to  thy  griefs,  and  eccho  fighs  to  thine. 
Nor  foes  nor  fortune  take  this  pow'r  away. 
And  is  my  Ahelard  lefs  kind  than  they? 
Tears  ftill  are  mine,  and  thofe  I  need  not  fpare, 
Love  but  demands  what  elfe  were  fhed  in  pray'r ; 
No  happier  task  thefe  faded  eyes  purfue, 
To  read  and  weep  is  all  they  now  can  do. 

Then  fhare  thy  pain,  allow  that  fad  relief; 
Ah  more  than  fliare  it !  give  me  all  thy  grief. 

H  h  h  2  Heav'n 


42o  M  I  S  C  E  LLA  N  I  E  A 

Heav'n  firfl:  taught  letters  for  fome  wretches  aid, 
Some  banifh'd  lover,  or  fome  captive  maid; 
They  live,  they  fpeak,  they  breathe  what  love  infpires, 
Warm  from  the  foul,  and  faithful  to  its  fires, 
The  virgins  wilh  without  her  fears  impart, 
Excufe  the  blufh,  and  pour  out  all  the  heart, 
Speed  the  foft  intercourfe  from  foul  to  foul, 
And  waft  a  figh  from  Indus  to  the  Pole. 

Thou  know'ft  how  guiltlefs  firfl:  I  met  thy  flame, 
When  Love  approach'd  me  under  Friendlhip's  name ; 
My  fancy  form'd  thee  of  Angelick  kind, 
Some  emanation  of  th5  all-beauteous  Mind. 
Thofe  fmiling  eyes,  attempting  ev'ry  ray7 
Shone  fweetly  lambent  with  celeftial  day  : 
Guiltlefs  I  ga^'d  ;   heav'n  liften'd  while  you  fung  ; 
And  truths  divine  came  mended  from  that  tongue. 
From  lips  like  thofe  what  precept  fail'd  to  move  ? 
Too  foon  they  taught  me  'twas  no  fin  to  love. 
Back  thro'  the  paths  of  pleafing  fenfe  I  ran, 


Nor  wifh'd  an  Angel  whom  I  lov'd  a  Man. 


Dim 


MIS  C  E  L  LA  N  I  E  S.  +21 

Dim  and  remote  the  joys  of  faints  I  fee, 
Nor  envy  them,  that  heav'n  I  lofe  for  thee. 

How  oft',  when  prefs'd  to  marriage,  have  I  faid, 
Curfe  on  ah  laws  but  thofe  which  love  has  made? 
Love,  free  as  air,  at  fight  of  human  ties, 
Spreads  his  light  wings,  and  in  a  moment  flies. 
Let  wealth,  let  honour,  wait  the  wedded  dame, 
Auguft  her  deed,  and  facred  be  her  fame ; 
Before  true  paflion  all  thofe  views  remove, 
Fame,  wealth,  and  honour!  what  are  you  to  Love? 
The  jealous  God,  when  we  profane  his  fires, 
Thofe  reftlefs  pallions  in  revenge  infpires ; 
And  bids  them  make  miftaken  mortals  groan, 
Who  feek  in  love  for  ought  but  love  alone. 
Should  at  my  feet  the  world's  great  mailer  fall, 
Himfelf,  his  throne,  his  world,  I'd  fcorn  'em  all: 
Not  .defafs  emprefs  wou'd  I  deign  to  prove; 
No,  make  me  miftrefs  to  the  man  I  love ; 
If  there  be  yet  another  name  more  free, 
More  fond  than  miftrefs,  make  me  that  to  thee ! 

Oh; 


422  MISCELLANIES. 

Oh  happy  ftate!   when  fouls  each  other  draw, 
When  love  is  liberty,  and  nature,  law : 
All  then  is  full,  poffeffing,  and  poffeft, 
No  craving  Void  left  aking  in  the  bread: 
Ev'n  thought  meets  thought  e'er  from  the  lips  it  part, 
And  each  warm  wifh  fprings  mutual  from  the  heart. 
This  fure  is  blifs  fif  blifs  on  earth  there  be) 
And  once  the  lot  of  Abelard  and  me. 

Alas  how  chang'd !    what  fudden  horrors  rife  ? 
A  naked  Lover  bound  and  bleeding  lies ! 
Where,  where  was  Eloife  ?  her  voice,  her  hand, 
Her  ponyard,  had  oppos'd  the  dire  command. 
Barbarian  flay  !   that  bloody  hand  reflrain  ; 
The  crime  was  common,  common  be  the  pain. 
I  can  no  more  ;   by  fhame,  by  rage  fuppreft, 
Let  tears,  and  burning  blufhes  fpeak  the  reft. 

Canft  thou  forget  that  fad,  that  folemn  day, 
When  victims  at  yon'  altar's  foot  we  lay  ? 
Canft  thou  forget  what  tears  that  moment  fell, 
When,  warm  in  youth,  I  bade  the  world  farewell  ? 

As 


MISCELLANIES.  423 

As  with  cold  lips  I  kifs'd  the  facred  veil, 

The  flirines  all  trembled,  and  the  lamps  grew  pale: 

Heav'n  fcarce  believ'd  the  conqueft  it  furvey'd, 

And  Saints  with  wonder  heard  the  vows  I  made. 

Yet  then,   to  thofe  dread  altars  as  I  drew, 

Not  on  the  Crofs  my  eyes  were  fix'd,  but  you ; 

Not  grace,  or  zeal,  love  only  was  my  call, 

And  if  I  lofe  thy  love,  I  lofe  my  all. 

Come  !  with  thy  looks,  thy  words,  relieve  my  woe  ; 

Thofe  ftill  at  leaft  are  left  thee  to  bellow. 

Still  on  that  breajl  enamour'd  let  me  lie, 

Still  drink  delicious  poifon  from  thy,  eyer 

Pknt  on.  thy  lip,  and  to  thy  heart  be  preft ; 

Give  all  thou  canft — and  let  me  dream  the  reft. 

Ah  no  !   inftrudt  me  other  joys  to  prize, 

Witlr  other  beauties  charm  my  partial  eyes, 

Full  in  my  view  fet  all  the  bright  abode, 

And  make  my  foul  quit  Abelard  for  God* 

Ah  think  at  leaft  thy  floclf  deferve  thy  care, 
Plants  of  thy  hand,  and  children  of  thy  pray'iv 

From 


+2+  Ml  S  C  E  LLA  N  I  E  S. 

From  the  falfe  world  in  early  youth  they  fled, 

By  thee  to  mountains,  wilds,  and  deferts  led. 

You*rais'd  thefe  hallow'd  walls;  the  defert  fmil'd, 

And  Paradife  was  open'd  in  the  Wild. 

No  weeping  orphan  faw  his  father's  ftores 

Our  {brines  irradiate,   or  emblaze  the  floors ; 

No  filver  faints,  by  dying  mifers  giv'n, 

Here  brib'd  the  rage  of  ill-requited  heav'n  : 

But  fuch  plain  roofs  as  piety  could  raife, 

And  only  vocal  with  the  Maker's  praife. 

In  thefe  lone  walls  (their  days  eternal  bound) 

Thefe  mofs-grown  domes  with  fpiry  turrets  crown'd, 

Where  awful  arches  make  a  noon-day  night, 

And  the  dim  windows  fhed  a  folemn  light ; 

Thy  eyes  diffus'd  a  reconciling  ray, 

And  gleams  of  glory  brighten'd  all  the  day. 

But  now  no  face  divine  contentment  wears, 

'Tis  all  blank  fadnefs,  or  continual  tears. 

See  how  the  force  of  others  pray'rs  I  try, 

(Oh  pious  fraud  of  am'rous  charity  !) 

But 

He  founded  tie  Mcnaflcvy. 


MISCELLANIES.  425 

But  why  fliould  I  on  others  pray'rs  depend  ? 
Come  thou,  my  father,  brother,  husband,  friend ! 
Ah  let  thy  handmaid,  fitter,  daughter  move, 
Andj  all  thofe  tender  names  in  one,  thy  love ! 
The  darkfom  pines  that  o'er  yon'  rocks  reclin'd 
Wave  high,  and  murmur  to  the  hollow  wind, 
The  wandring  dreams  that  fhine  between  the  hills, 
The  grots  that  eccho  to  the  tinkling  rills, 
The  dying  gales  that  pant  upon  the  trees, 
The  lakes  that  quiver  to  the  curling  breeze ; 
No  more  thefe  fcenes  my  meditation  aid, 
Or  lull  to  reft  the  vifionary  maid : 
But  o'er  the  twilight  groves,  and  dusky  caves, 
Long-founding  ifles,  and  intermingled  graves, 
Black  Melancholy  fits,  and  round  her  throws 
A  death-like  filence,  and  a  dread  repofe: 
Her  gloomy  prefence  faddens  all  the  fcene, 
Shades  ev'ry  flow'r,  and  darkens  ev'ry  green, 
Deepens  the  murmur  of  the  falling  floods, 
And  breathes  a  browner  horror  on  the  woods, 

Iii  Yet 


42£  MISCELLANIES. 

Yet  here  for  ever,  ever  muft  I  flay ; 
Sad  proof  how  well  a  lover  can  obey ! 
Death,  only  death,  can  break  the  lafting  chain ; 
And  here  ev'n  then,  fhall  my  cold  duft  remain, 
Here  all  its  frailties,  all  its  flames  refign, 
And  wait,  till  'tis  no  fin  to  mix  with  thine. 

Ah  wretch  !  believ'd  the  fpoufe  of  God  in  vain, 
Confefs'd  within  the  flave  of  love  and  man. 
Aflifl:  me  heav'n  !  but  whence  arofe  that  pray'r  ? 
Sprung  it  from  piety,  or  from  defpair  ? 
Ev'n  here,  where  frozen  chaftity  retires, 
Love  finds  an  altar  for  forbidden  fires. 
I  ought  to  grieve,  but  cannot  what  I  ought  j, 
I  mourn  the  lover,  not  lament  the  fault ; 
I  view  my  crime,  but  kindle  at  the  view, 
Repent  old  pleafures,  and  fol licit  new : 
Now  turn'd  to  heav'n,  I  weep  my  part  offence, 
Now  think  of  thee,  and  curfe  my  innocence. 
Of  all,  affli&ion  taught  a  lover  yet, 


'Tis  fure  the  hardeft  fcience  to  forget! 


How 


MISCELLANIES.  427 

How  fliall  I  lofe  the  fin,  yet  keep  the  fenfe, 
And  love  th' offender,  yet  deteft  th' offence? 
How  the  dear  obje6t  from  the  crime  remove, 
Or  how  diftinguifli  penitence  from  love  ? 
Unequal  task !  a  paffion  to  refign, 
For  hearts  fo  touched,  fo  pierc'd,  fo  loft  as  mine. 
E'er  fuch  a  foul  regains  its  peaceful  ftate, 
How  often  muft  it  love,  how  often  hate ! 
How  often,  hope,  defpair,  refent,  regret, 
Conceal,  difdain — do  all  things  but  forget. 
But  let  heav'n  feize  it,  all  at  once  'tis  fir'd, 
Not  touch 'd,  but  rapt ;    not  waken'd,  but  infpir'd ! 
Oh  come  !  oh  teach  me  nature  to  fubdue, 
Renounce  my  love,  my  life,  my  felf— -and  you. 
Fill  my  fond  heart  with  God  alone,  for  he 
Alone  can  rival,  can  fucceed  to  thee. 

How  happy  is  the  blamelefs  Veftal's  lot  ? 
The  world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot 
Eternal  fun-lhine  of  the  fpotlefs  mind ! 
Each  pray'r  accepted,  and  each  wilh  refign'd ; 

I  i  i  2  Labour 


42S  MISCELLANIES. 

Labour  and  reft,  that  equal  periods  keep  ; 
i  Obedient  flumbers  that  can  wake  and  weep ; 
Defires  compos'd,  affections  ever  even, 
Tears  that  delight,  and  fighs  that  waft  to  heav'n. 
Grace  Ihines  around  her  with  fereneft  beams, 
And  whifp'ring  Angels  prompt  her  golden  dreams. 
For  her  the  Spoufe  prepares  the  bridal  ring, 
For  her  white  virgins  Hymenaals  fing  ; 
For  her  th'  unfading  rofe  of  Eden  blooms, 
And  wings  of  Seraphs  fhed  divine  perfumes ; 
To  founds  of  heav'nly  harps,  fhe  dies  away, 
And  melts  in  vifions  of  eternal  day. 

Far  other  dreams  my  erring  foul  employ, 
Far  other  raptures,  of  unholy  joy : 
When  at  the  clofe  of  each  fad,  forrowing  day, 
Fancy  reftores  what  vengeance  fnatch'd  away, 
Then  confcience  fleeps,  and  leaving  nature  free, 
All  my  loofe  foul  unbounded  fprings  to  thee. 
O  curft,  dear  horrors  of  all-confcious  night ! 
How  glowing  guilt  exalts  the  keen  delight  1 

Provoking 


MISCELLANIES.  42? 

Provoking  Daemons  all  reftraint  remove, 

And  ftir  within  me  ev'ry  fource  of  love. 

I  hear  thee,  view  thee,  gaze  o'er  all  thy  charms, 

And  round  thy  phantom  glue  my  clafping  arms. 

I  wake — no  more  I  hear,  no  more  I  view, 

The  phantom  flies  me,  as  unkind  as  you. 

I  call  aloud  ;  it  hears  not  what  I  fay  ; 

I  ftretch  my  empty  arms ;  it  glides  away : 

To  dream  once  more  I  clofe  my  willing  eyes ; 

Ye  foft  illufions,  dear  deceits,  arife ! 

Alas  no  more  !i — methinks  we  wandring:  pt> 

Thro'  dreary  waftes,  and  weep  each  other's  woe ; 

Where  round  fome  mould'ring  tow'r  pale  ivy  creeps, 

And  low-brow'd  rocks  hang  nodding  o'er  the  deeps. 

Sudden  you  mount !  you  becken  from  the  skies ; 

Clouds  interpofe,  waves  roar,  and  winds  arife. 

I  fhriek,  ftart  up,  the  fame  fad  profped:  find, 

And  wake  to  all  the  griefs  I  left  behind. 

For  thee  the  fates,  feverely  kind,  ordain 
A  cool  fufpenfe  from  pleafure  and  from  pain ; 

Thy 


430  MISCELLANIES. 

Thy  life  a  long,  dead  calm  of  fix'd  repofe ; 
No  pulfe  that  riots,  and  no  blood  that  glows. 
Still  as  the  fea,  e'er  winds  were  taught  to  blow, 
Or  moving  fpirit  bade  the  waters  flow; 
Soft  as  the  ilumbers  of  a  faint  forgiv'n, 
And  mild  as  opening  gleams  of  promis'd  heav'n. 

Come  Abelard  I  for  what  haft  thou  to  dread  ? 
The  torch  of  Venus  burns  not  for  the  dead ; 
Cut  from  the  root  my  perilled  joys  I  fee, 
And  love's  warm  tyde  for  ever  ftopt  in  thee. 
Nature  ftands  check'd  ;  Religion  difapproves  ; 
Ev'n  thou  art  cold — yet  Eloifa  loves. 
Ah  hopelefs,  lafting  flames !  like  thofe  that  burn 
To  light  the  dead,  and  warm  th' unfruitful  urn.  , 

What  fcenes  appear  where-e'er  I  turn  my  view, 
The  dear  Ideas,  where  I  fly,  purfue, 
Rife  in  the  grove,  before  the  altar  rife, 
Stain  all  my  foul,  and  wanton  in  my  eyes ! 
I  wafte  the  Matin  lamp  in  fighs  for  thee, 
Thy  image  fteals  between  my  God  and  me, 

Thy 


MISCELLANIES.  431 

Thy  voice  I  feem  in  ev'ry  hymn  to  hear ; 
With  ev'ry  bead  I  drop  too  foft  a  tear. 
When  from  the  Cenfer  clouds  of  fragrance  roll, 
And  fwelling  organs  lift  the  rifing  foul ; 
One  thought  of  thee  puts  all  the  pomp  to  flight, 
Priefts,  Tapers,  Temples,  fwim  before  my  fight : 
In  feas  of  flame  my  plunging  foul  is  drown'd, 
While  Altars  blaze,  and  Angels  tremble  round. 
While  proftrate  here  in  humble  grief  I  lie, 
Rind,  virtuous  drops  juft  gath 'ring  in  my  eye, 
While  praying,  trembling,  in  the  duft  I  roll, 
And  dawning  grace  is  opening  on  my  foul. 
Corme,  if  thou  dar'ft,  all  charming  as  thou  art ! 
Oppofe  thy  felf  to  heav'n ;  difpute  my  heart ; 
Come,  with  one  glance  of  thofe  deluding  eyes, 
Blot  out  each  bright  Idea  of  the  skies. 
Take  back  that  grace,  thofe  forrows,  and  thofe  tears, 
Take  back  my  fruitlefs  penitence  and  pray'rs, 
Snatch  me,  juft  mounting,  from  the  bleft  abode, 
Aflift  the  Fiends   and  tear  me  from  my  God ! 

No> 
\ 


432  MISCELLANIES. 

No,  fly  me,  fly  me !  far  as  Pole  from  Pole ; 
Rife  Alps  between  us !  and  whole  oceans  roll ! 
Ah  come  not,  write  not,  think  not  once  of  me, 
Nor  fhare  one  pang  of  all  I  felt  for  thee. 
Thy  oaths  I  quit,   thy  memory  refign, 
Forget,  renounce  me,  hate  whate'er  was  mine. 
Fair  eyes,  and  tempting  looks  (which  yet  I  view !) 
Long  lov'd,  ador'd  ideas !  all  adieu ! 
O  grace  ferene !  oh  virtue  heav'nly  fairi 
Divine  oblivion  of  low-thoughted  care ! 
Frefli  blooming  hope,  gay  daughter  of  the  sky ! 
And  faith,  our  early  immortality ! 
Enter  each  mild,  each  amicable  gueft; 
Receive,  and  wrap  me  in  eternal  reft ! 

See  in  her  Cell  fad  Eloifa  fpread, 
Propt  in  fome  tomb,  a  neighbour  of  the  dead ! 
In  each  low  wind  methinks  a  Spirit  calls, 
And  more  than  Echoes  talk  along  the  walls. 
Here,  as  I  watch'd  the  dying  lamps  around, 
From  yonder  Ihrine  I  heard  a  hollow  found. 

Come 


M  I  S  C  E  LLA  N  IE  S.  433 

Come,  filler  come !  (it  faid,  or  feem'd  to  fay) 

Thy  place  is  here,  fad  filler  come  away ! 

Once  like  thy  felf,  I  trembled,  wept,  and  pray'd, 

Love's  victim  then,  tho'  now  a  fainted  maid : 

But  all  is  calm  in  this  eternal  lleep ; 

Here  grief  forgets  to  groan,  a,nd  love  to  weep, 

Ev'n  fuperllition  lofes  ev'ry  fear : 

For  God,  not  man,  abfolves  our  frailties  here. 

I  come,  ye  gholls !  prepare  your  rofeate  bow'rs, 
Celellial  palms,  and  ever  blooming  flow'rs. 
Thither,  where  finners  may  have  reft,  I  go, 
Where  flames  refin'd  in  breafts  feraphic  glow. 
Thou,  Ahelard !  the  laft  fad  office  pay, 
And  fmooth  my  paflage  to  the  realms  of  day : 
See  my  lips  tremble,  and  my  eye-balls  roll, 
Suck  my  laft  breath,  and  catch  the  flying  foul ! 
Ah  no— -in  facred  vellments  may 'ft  thou  ftand^ 
The  hallow'd  taper  trembling  in  thy  hand„ 

*.  .if 

Prefent  the  Crofs  before  my  lifted  eye, 
Teach  me  at  once,  and  learn  of  me  to  die* 

Kkk  Ah 


434.  MISCELLANIES. 

Ah  then,  thy  once-lov'd  Eloifa  fee ! 

It  will  be  then  no  crime  to  gaze  on  me. 

See  from  my  cheek  the  tranfient  rofcs  fly ! 

See  the  lad  fparkle  languifh  in  my  eye  ! 

Till  ev'ry  motion,  pulfe,  and  breath,  be  o'er; 

And  ev'n  my  Abelard  belov'd  no  more. 

O  death  all-eloquent !  you  only  prove 

What  duft  we  doat  on,  when  'tis  man  we  love. 

Then  too,  when  fate  Ihall  thy  fair  frame  deftroyr 
(That  caufe  of  all  my  guilt,  and  all  my  joy) 
In  trance  extatic  may  thy  pangs' be  drown'd, 
Bright  clouds  defcend,  and  Angels  watch  thee  round, 
From  opening  skies  may  ftreaming  glories  Ihine, 
And  Saints  embrace  thee  with  a  love  like  mine. 

May  #  one  kind  grave  unite  each  haplefs  name, 
9And  graft  my  love  immortal  on  thy  fame. 
Then,  ages  hence,  when  all  my  woes  are  o'er, 
When  this  rebellious  heart  lhall  beat  no  more ; 
If  ever  chance  two  wandring  lovers  brings 
To  Paraclete's  white  walls,  and  filver  fprings, 

*  Abelard  and  Eloifa  were  interred  in  the  fame  grave,  or  in  monuments  adjoining,  in  the 
Monajlery  of  the  Paraclete:  He  died  in  the  year  1142,  fie  in  1163. 

O'er 


MISCELLANIES.  435 

O'er  the  pale  marble  fhall  they  join  their  heads. 
And  drink  the  falling  tears  each  other  fheds, 
Then  fadly  fay,  with  mutual  pity  mov'd, 
Oh  may  we  never  love  as  thefe  have  lov'd ! 
From  the  full  quire  when  loud  HofanncCs  rife, 
And  fwell  the  pomp  of  dreadful  facrifice, 
Amid  that  fcene,  if  fome  relenting  eye 
Glance  on  the  ftone  where  our  cold  reliques  lie, 
Devotion's  felf  fhall  fteal  a  thought  from  heav'n, 
One  human  tear  fhall  drop,  and  be  forgiv'n. 
And  fure  if  fate  fome  future  Bard  fhall  join 
In  fad  fimilitude  of  griefs  to  mine, 
Condemn'd  whole  years  in  abfence  to  deplore, 
And  image  charms  he  mud  behold  no  more, 
Such  if  there  be,  who  loves  fo  long,  fo  well ; 
Let  him  our  fad,  our  tender  ftory  tell ; 
The  well-fung  woes  fhall  footh  my  penfive  ghoft; 
He  beft  can  paint  e'm,  who  fhall  feel  'em  mofL 

FINIS. 


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